Starlight
by Meohy
Summary: Mello's an affectionate drunk, Matt gets stalked, A's an ex-rockstar, and BB drives like a maniac. Together, they'll see some crazy nights lit by the stars. MxM, AxBB, AU.
1. Into the Morning part 1

**Into the Morning:** part 1

Matt—

Oh, God. He's here. Could it really be…? Damn. Shit. Fuck. It's him. I'm screwed.

Even across the Technicolor-drenched crowd, I saw him. Definitely my ex. I bet he's stalking me. Again. I swung back around on my nifty bar stool so hard I smacked my knee into the bar. I cursed under my breath.

This wasn't happening. Okay, before I freaked out, I should think of a video game analogy. It always worked. What did I do when I got stuck momentarily on the Minas Tirith level of Lord of the Rings Conquest? I took a deep breath, armed my Gondorian solider, and hacked down every Orc with fire on my blade and a thuglife swag in my step. I told them to taste Narsil and started splitting skulls. Covered in black Orc blood, with the heads of my victims littering the pearly streets of the White City, I emerged an unsung hero of Gondor. I had upheld my honor and saved my city from Sauron's watchful eye. My wife, my children, my Captain, and King Aragorn would be so proud—

Whoa. Too far.

Back to my current predicament. My glass was empty. I had to fix that. As I signaled for the bartender, I glanced around nervously. No, scratch that. I masked my nervousness with an air of cool indifference. I wasn't going to let this ruin my night. It wouldn't.

I don't know how smooth I came across on the outside, but on the inside I was raging on like a panicked schoolgirl.

_he's not really here and he's not going to talk to me and he's just here to move on like I am and he's not mean or scary or approaching me! hell Elijah wood's eyes are scarier than him and you know it, Matt! wait, why did I just call myself by my own name? Jesus fucking Christ, just calm the fuck down and slow down crazie you're going batshit man it's s'all good yeah buddy kkthnxbai_

Yep. Definitely feeling the buzz now. Zelda, Link, and Hyrule, that took long enough. Maybe he didn't even recognize me. Maybe if I just hide my face in my menu I'll be okay. Could I do that and still look cool? Yes I could.

And fun I was going to have (Yoda much?). I made a pinky promise to myself in the men's room before coming out to boldly sit at the bar alone. I gulped down some of my drink before I glanced around again. Still no real sign of my ex. That's good. Maybe he's not out to get me just yet. Maybe, like me, he's hoping for a nonawkward lack of public encounter.

Just when I was busy trying to distract myself by reviewing every planet in the Star Trek solar system, someone reached a hand over and flicked the lens my goggles. Okay, random stranger. Way to be up in my personal space. I looked up and saw his face. Just kidding! I enjoyed that. Wait, why am I busy narrating? I should be talking to this gorgeous man. Use your words, Matt.

"What makes you want to see the world in orange?" He asked, sliding into the seat next to me and leaning close. He was dressed head to toe in leather and his breath smelled like candy. Why was he sexy on a pornographic level?

"It sure as hell beats seeing the world for what it really is." I found myself saying. Wow, that sounds so mysterious and philosophical. It makes me seem 10x cooler than I actually am. I mean, I guess I'm pretty badass but it's impossible to tell when I'm hype over the possibility of my ex lurking. With a line like that, I would date myself.

Smirking, he raised two fingers to signal another drink from the bartender. Just like that. No words, just sexy.

Okay, we can take turns. You can date me too.

Somehow me and this random stranger got into a conversation that led to black and white movies, then bad Christmas songs, then theoretical physics and neurobiology, then criminal justice, then perpetually boring happy endings, then how ancient Nintendo 64 and Dreamcast were, then TV commercials we found funny, how many times we think Lady GaGa has sneezed in her lifetime, and how ridiculous tumblr pictures are.

And I found myself relaxing. Something about him made me totally comfortable. Now I guess this is moment where you'll say "I know where this is going" and "Come on, he's a hooker that's going to rape you dead and take all your money" but we just…talked. And drank like there was no tomorrow. Which was fun. By the time he asked me if I wanted to hit the dance floor to, I found myself saying not only yes, but hellz yahh.

Now you're thinking, and I'm not disagreeing with you: when the fuck does this happen in real life? Badass nerd – yes we do exist – gets picked up a bar by a total yummy hotass leather-wearer that is also quite the badass? They have a heart to heart and decide that they are genuinely interested in the other based on a conversation alone? Even I'm reeling.

Maybe this was a dream. It could even be a nightmare. Did I really care? Fuck no. I was enjoying myself – finally – and nothing was going to stop me from having a good time. I hit the dance floor so hard I'd be feeling its repercussions back from Deep Space Nine for days.

Metro Station's "Control" ripped through the speakers. It tore through every pore of my body. The bass pounded in my ears. The lyrics were static in my head and every note was swimming in my veins.

Normally I would feel embarrassed by my own dancing, but next to Hotass Leather-wearer, I wasn't so awful. Which made me laugh. But I loved how comfortable he was with himself. His confidence was so contagious. When a grind train started up, Hotass Leather-wear dragged me into it. Laughing and holding his hand, I let him. We were sandwiched between girls wearing sparkly dresses that were short as belts.

Nothing could spoil my fun. I had finally let loose and had a good time. But it would come skittering to a halt. Nothing could spoil my fun—except maybe my ex. Shoving through the crowd. In my direction.

Hotass Leather-wearer tried to ask me something, but it was lost in the deafening music. Stupid music. I wanted to scream at Dev for fucking dancing in the dark, but even that wouldn't be heard by anyone.

He was saying something. I tried to read his lips. All the multicolored lights made it hard to focus on his mouth. He stopped and repeated himself slowly. I finally made out: "What's up?"

"Don't bother." I mouthed.

He seemed to let it go, but the brief narrowing of his icy blue eyes told me otherwise. Why did he care? We met like an hour ago.

And here my ex was, still shoving through the crowd to get to me. Cue Super Mario Death Music #9.

I tried to ignore him. I kept close to Hotass Leather-wearer. He smirked and kept on dancing with me. I tried to keep my mind on moving with Hotass Leather-wearer, but my ex was coming close. I swallowed hard. Even though we were jumping, I saw for a fraction of a second, Hotass Leather-wearer's expression change. He looked at me seriously, with his eyes narrowed. I think he was on to me, saw me trying to swallow my fear.

And here my ex was, dancing beside me.

At first, he bumped my shoulder as if he was too close and we accidentally collided. Once would've been enough, but he didn't stop. He kept nudging me, pushing too hard. I should've known he wasn't going to directly confront me or make a big scene. He was all about getting into your head and screwing you up. The whole relationship was all a mind game. Which is one of reasons why it didn't last. Now I pride myself on usually remaining friends with my exes, but he's been out to get me ever since. So here we are.

At first, I pretended like it was just an accidental collision. I wasn't looking for a fight. Hell, I didn't care if he messed with me even a little. I was the one who had broken up with him, I deserved something. But, come on. We're not in ninth grade.

I'm a pretty tolerant person, but there's only so much I can take. He kept bumping me., harder and more obviously. I was sick of his shit, so I bumped him back. "Enough."

He didn't like that. Even with all the neon lights in the club, I saw his eyes flash. His hands came down on me.

He shoved me. I fell back into a crowd of people. Hotass Leather-wearer grabbed my arm and held me steady.

When I was upright, he tried to shove me again. This time he was yelling something in my face. I couldn't hear anything. I didn't want to. I knocked his hands off my chest. "Go home, Cole."

Frankly, he was getting on my nerves. So I punched him in the face. No one noticed. It felt great.

Thank you, Dev for dancing in the dark and inspiring a couple hundred other people to. Like right now.

As Cole fell into the crowd, the other people thought he was another drunk guy tripping over his feet performing a crazy dance move. They picked him up, stood him up, and danced at his sides like nothing happened. But he broke away from them, making a beeline towards me. Fists clenched for a fight. Hotass Leather-wearer must've seen the blood leave my face again because he gripped my arm. He looked at me seriously, nodding his head, letting me know that he'd have my back. He conveyed this to me without having to shout over the too-loud music. A red light shone over him and he winked at me.

The second Cole came near, he got up in my face. He was saying something. I couldn't make out the words, but I could tell by his features, which were pinched with hatred, that they weren't a peace treaty.

This time my Hotass Leather-wearer wedged himself between Cole and me. In a moment of panic, I thought he was going to start a fight with Cole for my sake. I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. I was about to tell him to leave it be, that I could handle it, but he pushed over to Cole. I tried to follow. This was getting out of control. He put a hand on my chest, lightly pushing me back. He was going to handle this.

I didn't know what was going on. It all seemed too fast, like my vision was blurring around the edges. With the lights and music and the crowd, it all seemed like a loud, colorful, sparkly nightmare.

My Hotass Leather-wearer met Cole and placed his hands on each side of his head. He brought Cole's face close to his and spoke to him. For a weird moment, I thought they were to going kiss. But Cole was listening intently to whatever Hotass Leather-wearer was saying. How could Cole even hear him? I could barely form thoughts.

And, apparently, everyone decided that this moment was ideal to fist pump to "We Found Love" by Rihanna. Now that everyone's arms were in the air, I couldn't make out much of what was going between Cole and Hotass Leather-wearer.

I shoved my way through as many people I could. Someone was spraying neon foam and a couple beach balls were going around. Momentarily I was distracted by trying to avoid getting hit by either. When I focused again on Cole and Hotass Leather-wearer, I saw that Cole's eyes were wide. Hotass Leather-wearer stepped back and I noticed Cole's face had gone pale.

What's going on? What did he say? The whole scene looked strange in the middle of the crowd of drunken fist pumpers.

My Hotass Leather-wearer spun on his heel, finished with Cole, and started back towards me. Cole's eyes met mine through the hands of the flailing crowd around us. And I saw it. Fear. But only for a moment. Then he turned around and pushed his way towards the door.

And that was it.

My Hotass Leather-wearer reached me and flashed me a brilliant smile. Shaking my head, I took him by the shoulders and hauled his deliciously hot ass to a quieter corner of the club. I backed him into a corner, my hands still clamped on his shoulders.

"Okay, I trust you and all, random stranger. I want you to know that." I said. "It's nice to know you have more substance than all these club goers roll into one. Yay, awesome. But, seriously, what the fuck just happened?"

He struggled with an answer. Then, he said, "I wanted to make sure he wasn't going to mess with you anymore."

"Thanks, but I can handle myself." I didn't mean it harshly.

"I don't doubt it. But I saw how he got to you." He looked me dead in the eyes as he said this. I had a feeling that most people wouldn't. Speaking such honesty and intensity would cause them avert their gaze. "Look, it's none of my business. But you were freaking out. And you suck at hiding shit like that." Something about his unwavering gaze told me had courage and heart. And that he was brazen as hell. "Look, I just wanted you to have a good time without having to worry about some crazy stalker ex."

"What did you say to him?"

"Just threatened him."

"And that worked?"

"Yeah, must've. Hey, I know you can take care of yourself." I could tell by his eyes that we sincerely meant it. "But—"

"You were just looking out for me." I pinched the bridge of my nose. I tried to fight the smile, but it spread across my face anyway. "Okay. Next time, give me a little more warning."

He looked at me seriously. "You've got an encouraging amount of faith in people."

"Thanks. Do you write cards for Hallmark?" He whacked my chest, as if scolding me. I laughed.

He looked in the direction of the dance floor. He was thinking the same thing as me—this was getting heavy. Not that it was unwanted or comfortable. I needed this, and I figured he knew that, but it was killing his—and my—buzz. "Should be afraid, though?" I asked him before we went out again. "About trusting people so easily? What about you?"

"Trusting me? I can promise you something: I won't make it easy for you. But, yeah, you can trust me." He said, flashing me a dark and handsome smile. He grabbed my arm. "Come on." He led me back to the dance floor.

Everything with Cole that just happened was forgotten. And all other worries were lost with the music.

_Got the goofiest grin / got a big smile on my face / Hey you, let's get out out out of this place / grab my hand let's go_

When things started dying down, I touched my Hotass Leather-wearer's arm and pointed to the door. He smirked and nodded slowly. As we were pushed to the front door, we were held up by thicker crowd gathering to leave. Something that happened at the door was holding everyone. Probably some sloppy drunk throwing up all over the place. It happened.

Waiting in the crowd, he slipped an arm around my waist. Then kissed me on the cheek. His way of saying he had a great time. I felt a blush creep across my cheeks. I gave him a shy smile, which he received with a smirk. As soon as we left the club, he took my hand and led me away from the door. He shoved me against the dirty brick wall underneath the club's neon light sign and kissed me. Hard. Holy shit, I didn't want it to end. And when he pulled away, I was seeing stars.

"Why me?" I asked. I meant of all the people he could've talked to, he chose me. What about me made him want to talk to me?

Or was there a reason? Did there need to be?

"Why not?" He answered. "I like you."

While we were waiting for the cab to arrive, we stood on the curb and he kissed me again. I responded by slowly moving my mouth with his. Immediately his attack softened, like he wasn't expecting me to draw out the kiss and make it gentle. He wasn't expecting me to show him that I wasn't looking to get laid, that I was genuinely interested in him, teasing him, challenging him. That challenge was met. I stoked his jaw with my thumb. His hands gripped the sides of my shirt. He tilted his head, letting me go deeper.

When we broke apart, he said, "I like kissing you." He kissed me a few more times.

"You. Can. Mm. …Much. As. You. Like." I said in between kisses.

We broke apart for good, unfortunately, when the cab pulled up beside us. He slid into the backseat and tugged me in with him. As I leaned out to shut the door, his hand found mine and his long, cold fingers wrapped around mine. The dull glow of the streetlights only partly illuminated my blush. But he wasn't facing me, so I didn't catch his expression. Instead he stared out the window to the busy streets, letting in a soft breeze of cool night air.

There was something about him. It was different. If this were any other night, I'd be nervous about meeting a new person. I'd be wondering what to talk about, how to act, what kind of person they were, what our relationship was going to be like. I'd be thinking about how lucky I was going to get tonight. I'd be scared of insulting them. I'd be scared they wouldn't laugh at my jokes. Or actually find me funny at all.

This is different. I hardly knew him, but I felt totally comfortable with him. We talked, we danced, we kissed and already I feel like we've been with each other for decades.

Weird, huh?

Beside me, he started laughing. With eyes till turned to the street, he pointed out the window. Like life outside the cab was the funniest thing in the world. Like each passerby, dirty drug store, adult movie theater, club goer, and greasy Pizza store was hilarious. I found myself laughing along with him. For no reason. It just felt good. The world was just funny like that.

But we were both pretty drunk, too.

"You're my favorite person to ride home with." He told me. "I dub you…"

"Matt." I supplied, laughing.

"Matt," He shot me a grin, "I dub you, Excellence of Cab Riding Company, Braveheart of the Taxi Cab Stench, Caller of the Nighttime Transportation, Beseecher of the Yellow Cab company, Navigator of the Midnight Traffic, Conqueror of the…" He laughed. "Conquered?"

"That's not an escapist's way of asking me to pay, is it?"

"What?"

"You're not sticking me with the bill, are you?"

He looked at me sheepishly. "Yes I am."

"Can you at least tell me your name in return?"

He shook his head, zipped his lips, and threw out the key.

I almost rolled my eyes at how childish he was acting. "You're not going to make me guess, are you?"

He made a show of considering it. Then he resigned and said, "It's Mello."

Hmm. Interesting. I felt the grin break on my face. "Okay, Mels, do you spell your name with a W at the end?"

"Mels?"

"Suits you." I said.

He smiled in a non-obvious way. Mostly there was a light in his eyes. Then he paused for a moment and I could see that he suddenly looked tired. "No." He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

He was struggling to stay awake. His head was close to leaning on my shoulder.

"I'm trying to figure that out." The smile formed on my lips slowly. "But definitely someone who wouldn't finish their name with a W."

His eyelids flickered shut. Then, finally, his forehead nodded low enough to land on my shoulder. For the rest of the ride back to his apartment, he was sound asleep.

I squeezed his hand, which I never stopped holding, and rested my head against his. "Wake me up when we get there." I told the cab driver. Soon enough, I drifted off the sleep.

* * *

><p>My hands weakly held onto his sides. I felt the soft leather of his jacket under my fingertips. My eyes stayed shut, but my lips were moving long before a single thought formed. Before I recognized anything else, I recognized the feeling of Mello's lips on mine. God, I could do this forever. Even in my hazy confusion, he was clear. This was clear.<p>

I wasn't in the backseat of the cab. All around me, I felt the chill of late night air. Concrete. Everywhere. Felt like I was sitting on stairs. I let go of Mello's waist and swatted the air around me. My hand closed around a bar in the stairs railing. If we were on the stairs outside of Mello's apartment complex, how did we get here?

"Mmm." I tried to resist. That was impossible.

"Shh," he murmured.

"Can I get woken up like this everyday?" I said against his mouth. I liked being kissed awake. Especially by Mello. It was fun.

He finally pulled back and my eyes fluttered open. I realized that he was sitting in my lap, with his arms around my neck. It turns out we really were on the stairs outside of his apartment complex. I was holding him steady on my lap. My smile was slow and sheepish. "Hi."

Pushing his hair over his shoulder, he shot me a smug grin. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Ohhh yeah."

"Then it wasn't rape." He said matter-of-factly.

"Okay." Did I cry no? Not sure. Possibly? Probably not, though.

"Good. Nice talk." He stood up and pulled me up with him. I stumbled back into his arms.

"You're welcome." I said into his shoulder.

We were both laughing all the way to his apartment door.

Mello leaned me against the wall as he reached to unlock the door. I curled up against his side and started pressing soft, wet kisses on his neck. "Hold up there." I saw him fight the smirk spreading across his lips. "We're almost inside." Jamming his key into the lock, it gave way and he kicked the door open. "Welcome to _la maison de_ Mello."

"Are you French?" I asked. Explained his way of kissing. Perfectly.

"Naw, I just said it in French to make it sound fancy." He gestured into his apartment. "It's really just a shithole."

"Mm." I said against his collarbone.

"Come on, I already carted your ass out the cab. Fatass, you're walking on your own."

"You don't have anything with wheels? A cane? A scooter? A crowbar? A breadbox? Anything that would aid me in walking?"

"Damn, I ate the last of my bread last week. You're going have to walk on your own two legs. Shit happens. Life is fucked up. Everyday it will rain." He raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you really want the clichés to keep comin'?"

"Nope. I'm inside."

"Good. Let's get this party started." He flicked the lights on. "I think there's a radio in the kitchen." Throwing his coat over the back of his couch, he disappeared into the other room. "It might be broken. So the songs might autotune themselves. Or remix themselves. Not gonna lie, you might hear some dubstep."

I threw my jacket on the floor near the door. "Is that a band?"

"No, Matty, it's a genre of music. You take a song and remix it with techno beats. Mostly I think people add in heavier bass covers." He came back into the room, flicking the choppy pieces of hair that I assume to have once been bangs out of his eyes. "At least, that's my take on it."

My eyebrows shot up. "Did you just call me 'Matty'?"

He shrugged, handing me a beer. "Suits you."

I knocked my beer into his. "For Frodo." I toasted.

"For Sauron." He challenged, smirking.

My eyes narrowed. Oh hell no. "For Zelda."

"For Ganondorf."

"For the Millenium Falcon."

"For the Death Star."

"For Washington."

"For Lincoln."

"For the Pythagorean Theorem."

"For the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus Part 1."

"Not Part 2?" I was shocked. "What about evaluating integrals with the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus Part 2?"

"Pssh, naw, you can use geometry for that shit. Besides, antiderivatives can kiss my asymptote."

Ha. Math humor. I wasn't going to argue that, so I drank my beer. Mello shot me a cheeky grin. With his free hand, he punched buttons on his radio. Soon Lady GaGa's "Marry the Night" poured out from the dusty speakers.

"It doesn't sound that-"

Then it started skipping in a way that Lady GaGa did not intend. Her voice raised, still stuttering, almost to compete with a chipmunk's. It butchered the chorus, then it dropped to a low, impossibly synthetic decibel, sounding like that standard creepy caller voice that masked a person's true tone.

"Bad." I finished.

"Sounds like shit Ke$ha would sing."

"Not that good." I motioned to his broken radio. "You could fix that, but it's funnier this way."

A grin spread across his face. "Your reactions to everything amuse me." He downed some more beer. "Dance with me." He demanded. "Show me the moves you used back in the club."

I threw an arm around his waist and twirled him into a waltz, which was difficult since we were both still holding our drinks. But there wasn't much room in his apartment, so we resigned to holding each other close and swaying from side to side. "Which ones?"

Mello rested his head on my shoulder and looped his thumbs through the belt loops of my jeans. "You were doing this thing where you horse stance with your legs, but you raise your hands above your head and bat the air wildly. It's friggen hilarious. Your face stays serious even though your body is basically convulsing upright."

"I've got mad skill." I sniffed, sipping my beer defensively. "You're just jealous."

The song switched to LMFAO's "Sexy and I Know It", but I could barely recognize it through all the static. In my arms, Mello's head snapped up. His eyes lit up excitedly. I laughed. "I swear the government could use that radio of yours to tell if there are subliminal messages in songs these days."

"Shut up." He said, breaking hold. "It's time to tear the roof the fuck down."

I gestured to his cramped living room. "Well, seeing how you have so much room to flail around…"

"That's what I have a couch for." I could almost hear the childish _silly _at the end of his comment.

"Dancing on the couch?" I took a slug of my beer, hoping that another mouthful would impair my better judgment. "I haven't jumped on anything since I was like six years old and that was my bed until I slipped and knocked a tooth out by smacking my face on my nightstand."

"Tell your six year old self not to be scared to dance on the couch with me."

"I'd tell him but he's excited about completing the final quest of the Assassin's Guild in _Oblivion_. He's distracted, so I can't through to him. Oh, and he's complaining about spilling apple juice on his blue brontosaurus shirt."

"_Oblivion_? I only had a few G.I. Joes and Tonka Trucks." Mello jumped on to the couch and offered me a hand to join him.

I took it. Once I got up on the cushions, Mello took my hands and danced close to me. And close for him meant he was basically dancing up on me. I didn't care. I was laughing and drinking along with him. I even tried to fist pump to "You Da One" by Rihanna. Mello watched me carefully, waiting for the moment when I'd hit my head on the ceiling. He choked on his beer when I finally did hit my head. He caught me as I stumbled towards to edge of the couch, laughing and calling me a dumbass. We danced through a few more songs, singing all the wrong lyrics. He showed me how good his snake was and after a couple more songs, I humored him with my flailing horse stance dance.

Mello laughed so hard he nearly fell of the couch.

_Say it's young love at it's best and I tell you I'll remember_


	2. Into the Morning part 2

**Into the Morning:** part 2

_Say it's young love at it's best and I tell you I'll remember_

Matt—

Mello crouched over his toilet, emptying his stomach with each disgusting retch. I was leaning back against his sink, a handful of his hair in my hand. When he turned his face up to me, I handed him a wet washcloth.

"I got it. You can let go."

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah."

"'Kay." I patted his shoulder. "You're not going to stop drinking, are you?"

"Now or ever?"

"Either."

He smirked. "Nah."

* * *

><p>"If there's anything worth watching, it'll be in that box over there behind the TV." He motioned in the direction I was meant to look.<p>

I crawled over to the box and began to sift through the DVDs inside.

"I'm getting shit to eat." Mello disappeared into the kitchen. "Any food allergies, Matty?"

"None."

"Good, because if you had said yes, I wouldn't've cared and given you whatever the hell I have in the fridge."

I dug around in the box. "Comforting."

I heard something being microwaved. It smelled like cold sausage and milk chocolate. "You're welcome." Mello called.

I dug around some more. "Jackpot! _Moulin Rouge_. Always wanted to see this." I started taking the DVD out of the case. "I thought you said you weren't in to watching movies. This one's pretty much a classic."

"It's probably not mine. I gotta neighbor who comes over to steal my cable when I'm away." I heard him rustling around in his cabinets. "Wouldn't be surprised if he brought some of his shit over to watch."

I held the DVD case in my teeth as I shoved the CD into the DVD player. "He's got good taste."

"I'll let him know." He came out for a moment. When he did, he was holding a dirty spatula. He licked something—looked like melted chocolate—off it and squinted at the DVD case. "What is it called again?"

"_Moulin Rouge_. You know, Ewan McGregor, Nicole Kidman?"

"You pronounce that with a scarily accurate French accent." He left the room again, but stopped in the doorway. "Should I be afraid?"

I pointed to myself. "Harmless." Then I pointed to the DVD case. "Watching."

From the kitchen, I heard Mello's quiet chuckle.

With my sleeve, I cleaned off the dusty TV screen. Then I adjusted it because it was crooked on the makeshift cinder-block entertainment center. I grabbed the remote off the top of the TV and headed to the ugly yellow piece of crap furniture that Mello called his couch. I flopped back into the couch, stretching my legs. When my back hit something hard, I frowned and pulled out a lime green Converse shoe. "This is where my shoe went? Awesome, I found it." Dangling it on by the purple checkered laces, I chucked it across the room. "Bye, shoe."

Reentering the room, Mello handed me a huge plastic bowl brimming with food. Without looking at the contents, I set it in my lap and made room for Mello. The second he sat down and leaned back, I laid my legs over his lap and offered him a handful of whatever was in the bowl. He took a sip of beer before reaching in and taking out a handful of Goldfish and Froot Loops.

I watched him eat the Goldfish and Froot Loops, then peered into the bowl. The contents included: hot dog buns, Swedish fish, mayonnaise, spicy Italian sausage, Teddy Grams, oats and honey granola bars, Cheez Its (the special Scrabble kind), Goldfish, Froot Loops, a variety of PopTarts, packets of Chow Mein, whip cream, jolly ranchers, and candy canes.

He glared at me with mock-intensity. "What the fuck did you expect me to have? I'm a 23 year old man." Mello said defensively. He maintained his glare as he reached for a PopTart.

It took me a moment to process how Mello could live off this crap. I tried to remember what was in my fridge. Mustard, cheese, beer…Okay, so I wasn't any better. Along with generally having the same things, I think I have a lot more liquor. But less candy. "I love Froot Loops. And, come on, Goldfish: The Snack the Smiles Back? Where do you go wrong with that?"

He watched me unwrap my PopTart package. Then he turned his attention to the movie, which had been playing for about three minutes now.

I motioned to his Pop Tart. "Which kind did you get?"

"Strawberry. You?"

"Hot Fudge Sundae."

"Fucker! Trade with me."

I held it out of his reach.

"Hand over the PopTart, jackass!"

I brought it to my chest. "I already started eating it. Did you really want it now?"

"Oh, please. My tongue's already been all over the inside of your mouth. I'm not worried about germs."

I tried to hide my blush at his tongue-in-my-mouth comment by sliding lower in the couch and covering my face with the huge plastic bowl. I stuck out my arm to hand him the Hot Fudge Sundae PopTart, which he took. We both watched the movie for a few moments. "But for the record, my favorite PopTart is the brown sugar cinnamon kind." I said.

"Oh, I'll put on the top of my grocery list."

"Cross your heart?"

He took another sip of his beer. "And hope to die."

Smiling, I emerged out from under the huge plastic bowl. I stretched my legs on his lap and he patted my knee, eyes never leaving the screen.

Several minutes passed until Mello felt the need to make a comment like: "So this Ewan guy, he's got a great ass."

"Oh my God, I love it."

"Aren't you glad I said something?"

"I know, I was thinking the same thing. I'm glad you spoke first. I am forever in your debt."

"But how could you not notice its perfection right away? I mean, just look at it. Wait, I'm gonna pause it. I gotta zoom in on this junk. I need it blown up and in my face."

"To fully enjoy it."

"Oh hell yeah. Oh, God. Look at that."

"Can you handle it, Mello? Can you?"

"No, I'm losing control. I can't take it. But I can't look away. I just can't. It'd feel like a betrayal."

"I'll never see another ass that pleases me as much as this one."

"It needs a name."

"Harvey."

"Why Harvey?"

"Dunno."

"I like it."

Mello knocked his beer bottle with mine.

A little while later, Mello turned to me again. "I like all of Nicole's outfits."

This time I had switched my position to be resting under his arm. I leaned my head back on his shoulder. "Would you wear any of them?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Even the skimpy ones?"

"Especially the skimpy ones."

I took a drag of my cigarette. "I think I'm a ball gown kind of guy."

Mello tried to hide a smile. "I can tell."

"Ball gowns would suit you too, Mels. Actually, I think you'd pull it off better than me."

"I was thinking the same thing." He stroked my arm affectionately. "I've never felt closer to a human being than I do right now."

"I mean, you can twirl around in it. That looks like it'd be fun. And just think about the ways you could accessorize a ball gown."

"I know. I like those little umbrellas you hold with it."

"Oh, those are nice. I forget what they're called."

"A parasol?"

About halfway through the movie, Mello said, "Stand up."

"What for?"

"I wanna compare your ass to Ewan McGregor's."

And just to encourage me, he smacked my ass while I was standing up.

Later, Mello said, "I love the Duke. He's so sexy."

"I want his face."

"I want his dick."

And we went throughout the whole movie, making random commentary. We ended up trying to get to know each other than actually watching the movie. I liked it better that way. We made each other laugh throughout entire dance routines, we tore up all the love scenes by reciting the same lines with goofy voices, Mello continuously referenced Ewan's McGregor's ass, we asked each other personal questions and answered them sincerely. We cuddled throughout it all.

I could watch every movie like this. I could get used to hanging out like this.

* * *

><p>"These are fun sunglasses." Mello told me.<p>

"Actually, they're the goggles to my Chemistry set." I said, sitting crossed-legged beside him in his bathtub. Two beers sat between us. I had an unlit cigarette in my mouth. I was looking for my lighter in the pockets of my hoodie while Mello was slipping my jacket on each arm.

"This is weird. I usually keep it in either in my jacket or hoodie pockets, if not in my pants."

"Ha. In your pants." With his legs dangling off the side of the tub, he kicked the rest of the plastic curtains off the shower rail. "Check your jeans pockets again."

"It's not here, but that's where I always keep it." I pushed my knuckles as far down in the denim as they would go. "It's weird that it's not here."

He held the shower spout up like the gun, aiming it at me. He squirted me once in the chest with the water. Smirking, Mello flourished my lighter out from under his sleeve with his wrist. "You're welcome."

I almost dropped my cigarette when my jaw fell open. "When did you slip your hands into my pants pockets?"

Mello just winked at me.

I rolled my eyes amusedly, finally lighting my cigarette. I sucked the smoke in gratefully. When I exhaled, I blew smoke in his face on purpose.

I settled into the tub better and Mello drank some of his beer. He sprayed me with the spout again. I nudged his leg with mine and grunted in protest. "No fair." I said when I exhaled more smoke in his direction.

"Too bad." Before he could spray me again, I threw myself over his lap. My hand landed over his on the cold water handle. I jerked the water off, but not without getting wet in the process.

"Now you're all wet." Mello played with my hair, not concerned over the mess I'd made.

In my flight to the water handle, I had knocked the bottles over. I watched the beer sink down the drain. I had also dropped my cigarette. "Whoops." I flipped over and lay back in Mello's lap. He emptied the rest of his spilled beer on my head. I drank as much as I could. My legs were too long for the bathtub, so I let them dangle off the end. From my position, I glanced around at the ceiling. Folding my hands over my chest, I asked, "Mels, why do you have a ceiling fan in your bathroom?"

"There's no window in here. Something's gotta carry out the stench."

"Ewwww!" I kicked my feet, squirming at the visual he gave me. "That's grimy. Ew. You're grimy."

Mello tousled my hair. "My bad, peachy pie."

I burst out laughing. "What?"

"Which do you prefer, peach or pumkin pie?"

"Neither. If you lay out in front of me, I could eat an entire cherry pie."

"I like anything chocolate."

Leaning back on Mello, I felt my eyes drifting shut. He was comfy. I was so comfortable in this position, this moment, I could fall asleep. Not because I was tired or bored, but because I was feeling…peace.

"Ohh, cool." Mello took my Chemistry set goggles off and held them out between us. "They come in three different neon colors." He said, examining the pink rims and green and yellow sides to the goggles. Sliding them back over his eyes, he tilted his head to the side to gaze at me curiously. "Why do you keep those in your jacket pocket?"

"In case something happens to these." I tapped the orange plastic over my eyes. "They're like insurance."

We both keeled over at how ridiculous that sounded.

* * *

><p>"Oh my God, you're my hero." Mello grabbed my face between his hands and kissed me. "No other lowlife that I've brought home has ever been able to fix my toaster. I'm indebted to you."<p>

I scratched the back of my head. "It's really nothing…"

* * *

><p>I let go, sweating and panting. Every muscle in my body was exhausted and overworked. I struggled to control my breathing. God, Mello had pushed me too far, to the point of breaking. I had never had such a strenuous experience in my life then now. It was going to take a week to recover. I stared at the ceiling, gasping for air.<p>

Mello remained crouched over me. Catching my hand, he said, "Don't faint on me now. I still need you to finish."

"Everything hurts." I shut my eyes. "Please. I'm tried. I just want to stop. What about tomorrow? I need rest."

"Come on, you're stronger than that." He said. "You can go a little longer."

I groaned, slowly gathering myself off the floor. He stood next to me, crossing his arms. "Don't be such a drama queen."

"Fine, then make up your mind already." I sighed. "Is this were you wanted the couch?"

"Does it look better here? Or do you think it looked better against the far wall?"

* * *

><p>Mello pushed the bangs away from my eyes. Hugging the empty six-pack box to his chest, he laid in the ball across from me on his kitchen floor. Even though the radio was on low, he whispered, "What color are you eyes really? Are you going to let me see or do I have to guess?"<p>

"It's a secret." I whispered back, finding a better spot on my arm for my head to rest.

"Will you ever tell me?"

"No."

Mello stuck his lower lip out in a ridiculous and adorable way. His eyes pleaded for an answer with drunken vulnerability that I knew he could never express in words. He'd never look at me like this once he was sober or ever again probably.

"You'll just have to stick around and find out."

"I'm not going anywhere." He paused. "…because my leg is asleep. I can't move."

I took the box out of arms and held mine open for him. "C'mere."

Instead of his arm, he threw me a leg. I tried to hold a serious face, but I burst out laughing. I reached down further to grab his shoulders. "Come on, I'm going to help you up."

"When you lean down like that, I can see down your shirt." His glassy eyes reflected amusement at me.

"Like what you see?" I asked, eyebrow arching.

Mello looked at me very seriously. Then he gave me a handsome and devilish smile.

Mello took a handful of my shirt and pulled me down to the floor. He straddled my hips and took an antagonizingly long moment to run his eyes over my body. Sprawled under him like that, my heart started pounding fast. But two could play at this game. Quickly sitting up, I grabbed his hips and starting kissing him. I felt his arms around my neck. He kissed me back roughly. I fought for dominance but damn, was he a good kisser.

He pushed me back to the floor. He ran a hand down my chest and I swear I stopped breathing when his hand closed around my belt buckle. His mouth smashed into mine and he kissed me—hard. He let my belt go to use both hands to take my shirt off. I helped him out by clasping my hands above my head. He threw my shirt across the room. I took my hands down but Mello caught them and laced his fingers through them. For a brief moment I wondered if he was stronger than I originally thought.

His lips moved away from mine and down to my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. Everywhere he kissed sent an electric current throughout my body. Then he traced his lips down my chest. Slowly.

He kissed the skin just above the waistline of my jeans. The sexy noise I could've made came out more like a squeak. I squeezed his hands. Mello came back up to kiss my lips, more gently this time, although altogether our kissing was getting sloppy and urgent.

Then I felt his lips frown against mine. I broke away, though every cell of my body screamed in protest. Damn, I wanted him so bad right now. "What's wrong?" I asked.

Ignoring my question, Mello shook his head and kissed me again. He ran a hand through my hair, plastering kisses all over my jaw and neck. He pulled at the hair on the base of my neck to tilt my head to the side. I opened my mouth to let him in and almost smiled when I tasted Strawberry PopTart. Then his fist clenched. He broke away again, his jaw tensing. "Fuck. I have the worse headache." He closed his eyes, his features bent in pain.

"Hey, it's okay." I let out a shaky breath. I rubbed my hands over my face as I controlled my breathing. He climbed off of me and I sat up. The disappointment was quickly replaced by concern. "Are you okay?"

"Fuck. Ow." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes."

"Come on, I'll put you to bed." I slid my arms around his waist and helped him stand. As soon as I stood, I realized how awful I was feeling too. It was bedtime for both of us. But first I had to take care of Mello.

Damn, why am I the responsible one in this relationship already? Wait. Why did I just say we were in a relationship? It's too soon. …Right?

He buried his face in my neck as we walked. "I love the way the moon shines on the ocean at night. I want to go to the ocean." He looked up at me, "I want to go to the ocean, Matty. Take me to the ocean."

"What?" I took a few wobbly steps. I steadied myself on the doorframe as we approached the living room. "Oh, shit. I can't walk straight."

Mello's face returned to my neck. I felt him exhale against me. Then he breathed in slowly. I hope I didn't smell. If I did, he would have to deal with it.

"I wanna sleep at the ocean, in the sand, with you." He murmured. "I'll drive."

I considered it for a moment. "It's over an hour away." I rasped. Suddenly my voice was tired. I didn't realize how tired I was until now. I scanned Mello's apartment for a clock. What time was it?

"I'm a great driver! I wanna drive your cute, lazy ass to the ocean."

"Don't be ridiculous. Two seconds ago, you had a God-awful headache. You're perfectly fine now?"

"I'm kind of going in and out of consciousness, Matty. Who knows how I'm feeling? Didn't you realize I've been pretty wasted this entire night? So anything strange that I say or do is pretty much influenced heavily by alcohol, which explains my mood swings. I'm mentally, physically, and emotionally impaired by the toxins I've been putting in my body since I first tried to pick you up at the bar. Yesterday."

The club? Why did it seem like ages ago that we met? How long could one night last?

"Then why don't we save the rest of this conversation until another time, then? We can talk about the ocean tomorrow, okay? You need rest before we go anywhere. I'll be overjoyed to take you to see the moon and the ocean tomorrow…but that's if we don't stay asleep throughout this week and the next."

I kicked the door to Mello's room open with my foot. Once inside, Mello wobbled towards the bed. I followed sleepily and flopped down next to him. He had landed on his face, so crawled to him. He was already snoring softly. I rolled him over to his side. I took his boots off and pulled the blanket over his legs. Then I sank into the mattress next to him and closed my eyes.

_Say it's young love at it's best and I tell you I'll remember … staying out all night / into the morning, into the morning_

* * *

><p>Something was being repeatedly smashed in my face. It was soft, squishy. Smelled like Mello. Was it a pillow? Yes it was. Mello was smacking me awake with a pillow. Nice.<p>

"Wha…what's going on?" I mumbled. I missed being kissed awake.

He sat up on the bed next to me, arms crossed. "I thought we were gong to the ocean." His eyes narrowed. "Care to explain yourself?"

"Damn! I didn't expect you wake up."

"I'm only going to offer you this once." He stood up next to me and walked to by side of the bed. Then he turned away and crouched down. "Hop on."

"No, I'll crush you." I got up shakily. My eyes felt dull and hollow. I blinked a few times, yawning.

He threw my shoes at me one at a time. "Come on. Moonlight's fading."

I crawled to the edge of the bed. "What time is it?"

"5:40." He called.

I put my shoes on as fast I could move my arms.

"I'll be waiting." Mello called. "The door's locked, so shut it on your way out."

I heard the jingle of his keys as he grabbed them on his way out. Once I was finished lacing my Converses, I got up and left Mello's apartment.

I sauntered out onto the balcony of his apartment complex. I leaned my forearms on the railing and stared out at the lightening sky. It didn't take long for Mello to pull his car around. He honked the horn, despite the early hour of the morning.

I slid into the seat next to him. I noticed the mug in his cup holder first. "You made yourself coffee?" I peered around hazily. "How long did it take me to get down here?"

"After the first ten minutes I spent I tried to wake you up, I took a break and made this."

I reached over. "Can I have some?"

"It's Irish coffee."

I took my arm back. "Ew. Never mind."

I didn't realize he was wearing my jacket until I saw him pull out my Chemistry set goggles and cover his eyes. "Since we can't get to the ocean in time, I've settled to take us to the YMCA."

Folding my arms over my chest, I yawned and slid further down in my seat. "Mmkay."

We let the radio play for a few minutes. I didn't really recognize any of the songs, but one to two didn't sound half bad. One of them I thought was "Andy, You're a Star" by The Killers. When I was feeling awake enough to semi-function, I sat up. The first thing I saw was the dashboard, then I noticed Mello. He looked impossibly ridiculous and adorable in my Chemistry set goggles. I think he was wearing them mostly to amuse me.

"Hi." I said.

"Hi." He said back.

Rubbing the exhaustion out of my eyes, I watched the city pass me by in the passenger side window. It was still dark. I yawned again. Something in me wished the sun wouldn't rise.

Mello looked over at me in the passenger seat beside him. "Where's your shirt? Did we leave it at the apartment?"

My mind briefly recalled Mello pushing me back onto kitchen floor, kissing me the shit out of me, and throwing it across the room. "Yeah."

He licked his lips, eyes not leaving my chest. "All the better."

I reached for the volume controls, trying to hide my blush. "Don't tease me." But I smiled anyway. "And keep your eyes on the road!"

* * *

><p>I had no idea where I was getting the energy from. I should be dead. I'd only had about 45 minutes of sleep since…I don't even know when. The only thing I'd eaten was PopTarts, Froot Loops, and Swedish Fish. Not to mention that I had consumed an unhealthy amount of alcohol.<p>

Despite my would-be zombeish state, I still wanted to go swimming. After throwing huge shiny pieces of confetti into the pool, Mello had been contented by the whole "moon reflecting on the ocean thing." In the car, I told him I couldn't give him the moon, but I could sure as hell make that pool water sparkle. Turns out some funky little drug store was open at 6 in the morning and sold the confetti. Skippy, who was working the register, eyed us suspiciously. I'm sure we looked like hell, but nevertheless he took our purchase and rang it up. I blew him a kiss on our way out.

Back by the pool, I dipped a toe in the water. "Are you ready for this, Mels? I'm going in." I called, unfastening my belt.

"Take it off!" Mello said. He was working on his pants standing on the opposite side of the pool. He had taken the deep end while I stood by the shallow end.

Down to my Periodic Table boxers, I prepared to dive into the "sparkly" water.

"Wait," Mello called. "Don't dive, dumbass. You'll die."

"Oh. You're right." So I prepared my swan dive. Yes, I just referenced an Old Spice commercial. Fuck yeah. Old Spice guy rules.

"One…T-" Mello jumped in. I followed suit. We probably swam for 20 minutes. Mostly we just stayed in the shallow end, floating on our backs and splashing each other.

Then tiredness finally won out. I dunked Mello under the water one last time, then started towards the nearest pool ladder. I pulled myself out slowly. "How was that for a fake ocean at midnight?"

"Not bad." Mello said, climbing out the pool behind me. He frowned at his clothes. "I don't feel like shoving my leather pants back on."

"Take my jeans. I don't care. But there's no way in hell I'm wearing your pants."

"Oh, come on, Matty! Just once?"

"I'd have to be drunk and high off my ass. And I don't do drugs, so that would never happen."

"Killjoy."

"Yep."

Mello peered around for some towels. When he found a crate of them, he started towards them, leaving puddles of pool water on the floor. "Do you even want to leave right now?" He asked.

"No, I'm about to fall asleep."

"Good idea. We can stay here."

Coming back to the poolside, Mello sat beside me and handed me a towel to dry off my hair. I stuck the towel over my head and lay back on Mello's leg. I was fading fast. I was content to just fall asleep there. Soon, though, I felt Mello slip a folded towel under my head and lay down next to me. Then he tapped my shoulder. "Matt."

"Hmm?"

"Look."

I took the towel away from my eyes. Mello was pointing out the big pool windows. To the sky.

We watched the sun rise for the very first time together.

_into the morning / until the sun comes up and ruins it all_


	3. 2 PM

**2 PM**

A—

There's one thing I hate: posters that don't stick. Okay, actually, I hate a lot of things. Like tape dispensers, Ugg boots, dumb people in dumb commercials, orange paisley scarves, the early hours of Monday morning, _those_ people on train rides (you know who you are), lame music, people who wear sunglasses all the time, THAT guy, people who think "Yo" is an acceptable greeting, and horseradish. See? Basic daily nuisances. I'm no legit hater.

I just don't like posters that don't stick. It's my least favorite thing to do on a Saturday afternoon just when my shift is close to ending. And boy, is it a nuance.

I focused on the task at hand. Encouraging the young adult generation to read more books through a Hunger Games poster displaying the protagonist flanked by the two strapping young boys after her heart with 'READ' in big letters at the bottom. Under was a subtitle that read: 'May the odds be ever in your favor.' Very encouraging indeed. Okay, nice poster and all, but it just refused to stick. It literally jumped off the wall and into my arms every time I smoothed the edges back. Every time I narrowly dodged potential, life-threatening paper cuts.

"Mikami, can you spare a hand?" I called out to the prim businessman-like coworker of mine. He sat at the desk on the far side of the library, waving late fees behind the hulking monitor of the library's main computer. With every new entry that cleared a person's fee, he murmured 'delete.'

"Er…I haven't reached my deletion quota." He glanced up at me with a serious expression.

Spinning around on the ladder, I turned to face him. Raised an eyebrow. Fixed with him a look of consternation. "Do you really have to say 'delete' so many times a day?"

"Yes." He bent over the computer again.

"Fine. As you were." Despite my high position, I dropped the poster and let it fall to the floor. With both hands free, I climbed down. Crossing the library, I came up to Mikami and unfurled the poster on his desk. It blanketed the monitor.

"Remove that from my vision." He said curtly. Not surprised. Not defiant.

Ignoring his comment, I laid out the duct tape and leveler I'd used to straighten the poster. "You're taller, you've got better balance, and you're taking a break from fine-duty. Everything's here. I want it over the third bookcase from the right on the far wall. Get to work." I paused to lighten my tone. "I'm inept. Thank you, Mikami."

He rose from his seat. "I will commence in _deleting_ this task for you."

Stealing his seat, I propped my feet up on the desk and leaned back in the chair to watch him. I took a sip of the iced tea I left on the desk earlier. I surveyed the library. Only a couple of kids and parents stood in between the rows of books, movies, and CDs. I considered trying to beat Mikami's 3D pinball score, but I saw someone hovering close to the desk instead.

A young girl, escorted by her mother, tottered over to me. She had to stand on her tippy-toes to see over the desk. I rocked forward in the chair and folded my hands together professionally. Giving her a dazzling smile, I said, "And what can I do for you today, young miss?"

She stepped back into her mother's legs, giggling, and stuck her hands in her mouth. Her mother pried the book from her hand and put it in front of me. The mother didn't make eye contact. Rude.

I looked down at my clothes. Nope, wasn't wearing anything child/parent-repelling today. Jeans, faded T-shirt, cardigan. After they left, I'd check to see if I smelled. Still grinning, I picked up the book. "Ooh, this was one of my favorite books as a kid. My favorite part is when she"—I pointed to the little girl in the sandbox on the cover— "and Barbie make sandpies together at the end."

The mother gasped, her face pinching with horror. She glared at me through her thick glasses and pushed her daughter away from the counter. "Suzie, join your brother at the door."

"Wow, that's really low. Hitting on my four year old because you can't find a girl your own age to bother. Despicable." She stormed out of the library, leaving the book on the desk.

Damn. I was just trying to be nice.

"I wasn't hitting on anyone since I'm gay _and_ taken!" I called after her. "It's a good book for being part of the Barbie franchise because everything started sucking the second they gave Barbie a million cousins with names like Skipper!"

I shook my head the second the doors behind that woman and her children. Poor kids. With a raging, paranoid mother like that? Such a sin. I leaned back in the chair again, folding my arms behind my head. I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering myself. Just breathe. I leaned forward and started waving off some late fees when I calmed down enough. After the third, I starting saying 'delete.' Mainly to amuse myself.

I glanced up to see if they were anymore unruly library patrons lurking nearby. I was about glare off another snooty-looking mother when I noticed Mikami climbing down the ladder. I jumped from my seat. "Mikami, you need a spotter?"

When I joined Mikami at the ladder, he lowered his voice and said, "Even I do a better job at not scaring the children."

"That's right. You scare everyone else." I said, smiling sarcastically at him.

"True." He nodded to the poster, flicking the dark bangs from his eyes. "Are you pleased?"

"No." I folded my arms at him. "Didn't I say third bookcase from the right _at a 92 degree angle_?"

Mikami went to tear the poster from the wall. "I will fix it."

"No Mikami, I was just kidding!" I laughed nervously. I forgot he doesn't usually pick up sarcasm.

He started down the ladder. "Make your directions clear next time."

"Yeah, okay." I held a hand out to help him off.

He politely declined. "I appreciate the gesture," he said, waving off my hand.

Oh, Mikami. Always a gentleman.

I walked with tall, dark, and considerably handsome law student back to the front desk. "How's the law degree going?" I asked, glancing at him. I examined his suit as we walked side-by-side. Rain or shine, winter or summer, he always wore a suit. I've never seen in him anything else and frankly, I can't even imagine it. His suits are always pressed to perfection and the colors are coordinated expertly. The compliment would fly right over his head, but I always admired his style.

"Satisfactory." He responded, looking at me through the corner of his eye.

I clasped my hands behind my back expectantly. "Have you made any significant progress?"

His lack of a response told me 'no.'

Since I wasn't going to get much more out of him, I resigned to saying, "Tell me if there's any progress."

"If you wish."

"My shift's just about over. You can take the computer." I tapped the computer monitor and saw Mikami suppress a wince. My less-than-delicate way of handling technology seemed to bother him. Once I had a contest with this random group of teenage girls to see who could bounce their cell phones off the floor the highest. The entire time, Mikami's carefully kept expression dared to falter. "Go crazy."

"It's not over until 2:30." He remarked, pinching my bottle of ice tea by the cap and moving to toss it into the recycling bin he kept by the desk. I caught it and moved to stuff it into my messenger bag. Nevertheless, he continued, "You have 2 minutes and 15 seconds until you may leave." He removed a handkerchief—yes, you heard me right, the man carried around a freaking handkerchief (with his initials engraved on them, I might add)—from his pocket to wipe off the ring it'd left behind.

"You've got to be k—" I stopped myself. Mikami doesn't kid. "Do I have to stand by the door and wait for the bell to ring like a good boy?" I teased.

Mikami stared at me seriously for a moment, considering it. Then he slid a drawer open, removed an alarmed timer, and set it on the desk between us. As he set it for 2 minutes, I snickered ruefully and finished drinking my ice tea. I threw it away in the recycling and as I passed Mikami again, he pushed a stack of returned books towards me.

I motioned to the books. "I imagine you want me to put these back."

His dark eyes flicked away from the computer screen for a moment to meet mine. "It's not a request."

I hefted the stack off the desk and began to make rounds. At least he'd organized them into belonging to generally the same section. Some were adult paperback and the others were YA but those two aisles were adjacent to each other anyway. One of the reasons why I loved having Mikami as my coworker.

I was dutifully putting the books back in their shelves, trying to avoid the stares of the people who'd been here for my outburst with that paranoid woman, when I heard the soft _ding_ of Mikami's timer. I glanced down at the few books in my arms. "I'm not leaving just yet. I'll finish the stack then get going. Okay?"

"You have my permission." Mikami said, his voice not raising.

Slipping _Ink Exchange_ into the MAR section of the Young Adult aisle, I sighed. Done. "See you tomorrow, Mikami." I got my coat out of the closest near the desk. Mikami held up my key ring, which I'd left on the desk, as I passed by him. "Try not to kill anyone."

"No promises." He murmured.

As I headed for the door, I slipped on my sunglasses. Or, as BB and I like to call them, my super-spy shades. I know back in the beginning of my monologue I hated people who wore sunglasses all the time, but I hate it more when I'm recognized on the street. I _hate_ being recognized by people when I'm trying to get home or anywhere in general, actually. Plus, I'm not obsessed with sunglasses. I'm not a mysterious weirdo that thinks it's cool to look like a dumbass while wearing their shades at night. How do you even see, anyway?

I slipped a hat on as well, further concealing my appearance from the public. Okay, maybe I'm a mysterious weirdo, but I'm definitely not a dumbass.

For the most part.

Shutting the bulky wood doors behind me, I stepped out onto the street and started down the library's stone stairs. I tugged my cozy black scarf closer around my neck. While I waited for the crossing sign, I took out my phone and texted Beyond: _starving. how about breakfast?_

I was halfway across the street, skipping every other big white square on the concrete, when my phone chimed with a new message:_ 2:43 in the afternoon? splendid time for breakfast _

_that's lunchfast to you! _I hurriedly keyed.

I imaged his laugh as I read B's answer: _that's right._ _i'm calling the dictionary people_

Waiting as a few cars zoomed by, I crossed another street to converge onto the one that would take me home. My phone sounded with a call and before I looked at the number, I knew it was Beyond. I answered. "I'm not the dictionary people. But, yes, may I ask whose calling?"

I heard BB clear his throat from the other side of the line. "Yes, I'm calling from Apartment 459 Dinning Services. What, may I ask, do you desire for this afternoon's lunchfast?"

"Why yes, I would like a poppyseed bagel, well-toasted but not black, with strawberry cream cheese. A side of applesauce, not seeded. Chilled, but not cold. Hot chocolate that's warm, not too hot, maybe at 68 degree Fahrenheit, the glass filled up 2/3 of the way. Whip cream filling up the last third, 1 cup of milk, 3 and ½ spoons of coco power, stirred for 45 seconds. Left in the microwave for an extra minute-and-thirteen-seconds. In my favorite mug, the one with the old clocks…"

I kept the phone up to my ear as I steered away from a young Korean woman, who rifling through her ginormous—although very stylish—handbag with a steaming, lidless cup of coffee. I didn't want to be in range if she bumped into me. Her bag may be stylish, but my outfit is way too adorable to ruin. I paused, taking a breath. "…Did you get all that?"

"Already in the toaster oven. All the accessories are laid out on the counter for disposal. I hope you dine with us again."

"Thank you sir." I smiled, quickening my pace as I turned a corner. My tone softened from polite—slightly teasing—to warm. "Be home soon. Love you."

B's tone equally softened. "Counting the seconds."

"Counting the blocks." I said.

With each step I took towards our apartment, BB murmured a new number for the seconds he was counting down. "4…5…96…27…214…5290…0.1527. Infinity. Negative infinity. Infinite discontinues. _Eternity_ from Calvin Klein, which I would use as mace if the situation arose…"

"Hey, that smells good!" I transferred my phone from my left hand to my right. It felt weird in my non-dominant hand.

"This bagel smells good." He swapped out his usual tone for a gruff military commanding officer's. "Our mission's to get you home, solider. Don't get distracted by streetlife or shiny things. I need you to focus, Ryner. Them damn spies are everywhere! Pull yourself together and get back to HQ this moment or I'm going to make you regret it, you cheap maggot! Rodger!"

"I hear you loud and clear, Officer Birthday sir!" I almost stopped in the middle of the street and saluted the air. My voice cracked as I mock-anticipated the punishment awaiting me back at HQ. "Orders will be carried out in the fullest, sir! I hope to honor our fair country, the one I so bravely fight for, sir! Over!"

BB switched to a desperate army wife's voice. "Oh, honey, I do hope you come home soon! How ever will I survive another second without my brave, kindly solider?" It was slightly Southern. Maybe our skit had gone Civil War era. "I may swoon!" He muffled a sob. I mentally edited in the delicate handkerchief that he'd dab his eyes with. "Oh, do hurry! I am beside myself with worry!"

My voice reflected that of a condoning husband. Kind of British-y. "You know what I look like when I run, dearest." I paused. "Not pleasant, that's what."

"Like a limping giraffe?" I couldn't identify B's accent—it sounded close to his regular tone.

I reverted back to my normal voice and laughed. "I was going to say galloping brontosaurus, but sure." Then I started counting blocks. "Two…one and a half, one and three-quarters…damn it, my stubby legs can't walk me any faster!"

"You're not short, you're fun-sized."

I grinned. "And I have the T-shirt to prove it."

"Your bagel popped out of Hello Kitty's head. Congratulations. You're eating the brains of a small, lovable kitten. A quarter of the population wants to hunt you down and shoot you dead." He sighed dramatically. "I can only block so many bullets, babe."

I rolled my eyes amusedly, swerving through the crowed streets. "Hush now. If there was a zombie apocalypse, we both know you could pass off as one of them." I stepped out of the way of a passing skateboarder. "As a member of the undead race, you could skillfully perpetrate their defense, swag up zombie politics, claw your way into becoming their overlord, and commence in utter domination of the living and the not-quite-dead populations." I took a deep breath. "I can eat the damn cat's brains if I want to."

"Plotting world domination? I raised you so well." He paused so this proud moment could sink in. "Don't worry, I'll make you my queen. My Persephone."

"For whatever reason, when I hear the name Persephone, I think 'That sounds like a good name for a future pet horse of mine!' I don't know why…"

"Okay, if we get around to owning a pet, I'll be sure to name our horse Persephone."

"But we're only getting a horse if we can't have a pet llama or brontosaurus." I started up the steps of our apartment complex. "Because horses are my third favorite animal."

"How could I forget?" I heard him open and close the refrigerator, probably pouring himself a drink for his lunchfast. My guess is green tea. "For the record, I'd like to add that my favorite animal is a griffin. So you'll have to fit that in your future plans for us owning pets."

I started down our hallway, swinging my keys around on my finger. "Owning a griffin would be a nice form of transportation."

"At least the library is walking distance. I have to take the van to and from school. On the days that it feels up to running."

"True. But Two-Seven isn't far, either." I said, referencing the club where BB has to work on weeknights to pay for school. Bartending is just his part time job, though it's entertaining hearing BB the next day at lunch telling me of all the crazy things people tried to do to get into the club. I began counting down the distance between us. "4.5 yards…3.57 yards…9 feet…4 feet…open the door."

"Are you sure you're on the other side?"

"No, it's _Die Tarantel_." I said, mentioning our landlord. Tarantel is German for tarantula. It suits scarily well. I stood on the other side of the door. The smell of hot chocolate sifted through the door from the other side. "Can't you hear my voice?"

"Before you open the door, you're going to have to prove it's you."

I rolled my eyes, grinning. Opening my messenger bag, I took out my drum sticks. It took my drum cover one of his favorite Three Days Grace song on the door for BB to be convinced it was me.

Whether he knew it or not, he face completely lit up when he saw me standing in the door frame. He was buzzing around the apartment a hundred miles an hour as usual, busy with ten tasks at once. He zipped by me, stopping to give me a quick kiss as I unraveled the scarf from my neck. "Mmm, you taste good." I looked at the table to my plate where I expected to find the missing bite of my bagel. I smiled when I saw it. "Like strawberry cream cheese." I took a step into our apartment and promptly stubbed my toe. "Ow, shit!"

"I know you're a one-man band and all…" Beyond said, reentering the kitchen with a coffee mug of green tea in his hand. "…what with mastering basically all instruments. But since you're so attuned to them, shouldn't you be able to sense them always? Thus eliminating the fact that you trip over your cello case every time you walk in the door?"

"Linking instruments to the paranormal. Interesting." I threw my coat on the peg beside the door. "And no, I can't sense them. They only become extensions of me when I play them."

"Ahh. Spoken like a true musician."

"That I am." I joined him in the kitchen. Beyond handed me my mug of hot chocolate and I took a sip. "Plus the cello is a big-ass instrument, so naturally it takes up a shitload of room in our quaint and cozy little apartment."

"We could've made it into a coffee table, you know."

"I'm only a musician, so unfortunately I have no talent in construction." I stirred my applesauce in a counterclockwise motion. "But if you want to undertake the task, by all means. Just don't injure you or another human being when handling a power drill or whatever."

Beyond lowered himself to the seat across from me. "I promise there will be a minimal amount of blood, even if it pains to me to say so." The fork and knife on each side of his plate were just for show, even though he was eating syrup-drenched pancakes. Also his pancakes were coated with marshmallows, jellybeans, peanut M&Ms, black Twizlers, and powered sugar. B used his forefingers to carefully tear a piece away. He never used silverware.

"Have I ever told you have the same diet as Buddy the Elf?" I said, laughing.

He grinned. "Daily."

"One of these days, I'm buying you a bib so you don't ruin anymore shirts."

"I'd like it in blue, please."

I took a bite of my bagel. "You got it."

BB stretched his long legs under the table, his expression going slightly grave. "How do you think The Boy is doing? We've received no contact from him and it's been nearly 24 hours."

"Look at you, beside yourself with worry." I grinned at him from across the table. "I always knew you'd be a good father." I studied his expression for a moment. His eyes were wider than usual and his mouth formed a straight line. One could argue that he looked more maniacal than usual, but I know he was really just worried. I rested my hand on his arm. "I'm sure The Boy is fine."

BB frowned. "He is our only son." He sighed. "And he's growing up."

"We raised him well. I'm sure he can handle one night on his own." I tapped him on the nose. "So don't worry." I said, returning to my lunchfast.

"I'm just used to him being so close by." Beyond played with his pancake toppings, rearranging the peanut M&Ms and marshmallows. He made an evil frowny face.

I took some M&Ms off his plate and made a heart. "I miss him too." I tore away the piece of the pancake with the heart. BB opened his mouth and I fed it to him. "Wanna go to the grocery store later?" I suggested, knowing that it was one of BB's favorite places to go. "We can go tonight when it's dark and stuff."

He grinned. "Okay."

**Dear Eric, **

**I bet if you saw me today, you'd be surprised at what you'd see. I'm miles different then you remember. But I could never truly be myself when I was with you. In those last few years, I really felt myself close off and get distant. I wanted to hide from the world when we were in an always intruding spotlight. **

**When I left, I took the misery and pain of you and me. Or at least, it felt like the weight of two people's sorrows burdened me. Maybe it wasn't mine and yours, just two separate versions of me. The person that you saw and the person who lived when no one was watching. **

**I don't think I could ever forgive you for what you did to me, are still doing to me. I try all the time. Some things last longer than others, but nothing is everlasting. **

**I still feel for you. And if I could, I still would take away all your pain. I would. **

**It makes me sick that I sometimes wish I could take it all back, do it all over again, and be your best friend again. **

**Your friend,**

**A **

_Would you like send this message?_ _Yes/__**No**_

_Are you sure? **Yes**/No_

_Message discarded. _


	4. Nightfall

**Nightfall**

Matt—

By the time I woke up, it was dark. Again, I wasn't sure what time it was. With Mello, time doesn't seem to exist. It's like our time together will last forever. It's not bounded by the eventual reality that we can't spend every second of everyday together. Time for us just… lasts.

I surveyed my surroundings. From the big pool windows and the glittery night sky, the surface of the pool water covered in silver confetti, the towel wrapped around my waist. My Periodic Table boxers. The brontosaurus floaties that I used in the pool when Mello and I went swimming. My eyes traced the wire of my earphones leading down my chest to the floor. For some reason, I had put my iPod earbuds in. Maybe to ease myself into sleep – because sometimes I swear I'm an insomniac – and I faintly recognized the song that was on repeat as Cher Lloyd's "With Ur Love." What? It's a catchy little tune. .

I looked up at Mello, smiling sheepishly. "Hi."

"Hi." He said back. He was leaning against the metal bleachers beside the pool. My eyes raked over his body (what? you would steal a look, too). He was wearing my green army jacket and ripped jeans. His blond hair was tied back in a half-up. There was a cord around his neck that I hadn't noticed before. I wondered what the symbol means. There's so much of him that I haven't figured out.

Mello was crouched over his phone. I gathered myself up off the poolside with much effort. Since it was dark out, I figured I must've got at least 12 hours of sleep. After a night like that, I know I needed every second. I smiled at the thought of last night. With what I remembered blurring together, I don't really know if I believe it all. Whatever happened, I don't need every single detail. I just know it was amazing.

_/ Say it's young love at it's best / _

And I was in excellent company. I walked over to Mello and joined him on the bleachers.

I settled in beside him, bringing my knees up to my chest. I still wasn't wearing a shirt. Mello felt me shiver into him. He put his phone down and handed me my jacket back. "As much as I look good in this, it's yours. So, out of charitable good nature, I'll give it back to you."

I grinned. "Thanks." I motioned to his phone, which was back in his hands. "Your boyfriend?" I joked.

"Just a friend. I mean, he's gay. But we're not." He struggled to explain. "For each other, I mean. He's my neighbor." He paused. "He's one of the sassiest men you'll ever meet. He _flutters _like a butterfly." Smirking, he held up his finger. "Here. Watch." He started keying in a text message. I peered over his shoulder. It read: _should i dye my hair black?_ I laughed. Was this a typical topic between Mello and him? Cosmetics?

Mello went on explaining. "He's the one with that movie…um, _Moulin Rouge_?" He waved the phone. "He was just asking me how last night was."

"So your gay friend/neighbor" – I literally pronounced the "slash" – "wants to know if you got lucky last night?"

"Naturally."

While we waited for a response, Mello handed me my jeans back. He just stood up and stripped down to his boxers. Then he stepped out of them and shoved them in my arms. "You're welcome." He said, smirking. My face went an obnoxious red.

I slipped them on and went to the deep end to get him his leather pants. From across the pool, I heard his cell phone sound the delivery of a new message. When I came back to Mello's side, we traded: his cell phone for his pants. I glanced at the screen:

_no, sugar, it wouldn't suit u & that handsome face of urs_

I rolled my eyes amusedly.

"See?" Mello said. He jumped up and down a little, trying to wiggle into his leather pants. A moment later, his phone chimed again. Another message.

_now if u'll excuse me im bout 2 let my bf eat dinner off my chest. & i bet u no wat dessert is ;)_

I read it out loud to Mello. He snorted. "Send: _thanks for the image._"

My fingers went flying. Then I glanced up. "Do you need help?" I asked Mello, talking about his pants.

"Nope. I'm good. I can't wait to go home and throw some other pants on."

My chest suddenly felt empty. Now that the night is over, what's left? What now? Was that a one-time kind of thing? I shook my head. Something told me with all that happened, this wasn't going to end so soon.

I handed Mello his phone back. As he took it from my hand, I briefly acknowledged Mello's friend's sign off:

_:)) smooches! _

Slipping his phone into one of his combat boots, Mello watched me tie my lime green Converses. "Ready?"

From the floor, I looked up at him. "For what?"

I finished putting my shoes on and stood up. I watched him take his car keys out of a pocket in his vest, which he was slipping his arms through. "Dinner and a shower, of course." He walked into me, his face dropping to my shoulder. "Obviously not in that order. You stink."

I laughed. "Gee. Thanks."

"Plus, you need your shirt. Despite how goddamn sexy you look right now, I don't want you getting a cold." He tapped my nose. "Let's get you home, Matty."

We headed for his car. As he locked the door to the YMCA behind me, I took a few steps out to the parking lot and lit a cigarette. As I exhaled the smoke, I panicked for a second, thinking I forgot my iPod by the pool. I patted my hands over my jacket pockets. I felt my wallet, keys, Chemistry set goggles, a few comic strip cut-outs mixed with receipts, and my iPod. When I jumped into Mello's car, I asked, "So did you mean my place or yours?"

"I said home." Mello looked at me pointedly from his position in the driver's seat. "So mine."

Maybe it was the hangover talking, but for some reason that really registered for me. This was for real. I didn't want to leave Mello's side. I wasn't planning to, at least. I nodded curtly in response, took the cigarette out of my mouth, and blew out smoke.

"You know, theoretically, we're going to have to go to my apartment eventually. I need new clothes, I can't let my bills pile up…" I shuddered. I've been trying to avoid my landlord for weeks.

She's a crazy bitch. And she's got it out for me. "…I don't want my food going bad, I can't neglect my videogames for too long…"

"I can't wait." He said, putting the car in reverse. He threw his arm around the back of my seat to get a better angle. "You can wear something of mine for now. Then we'll see about going to your place."

I arched an eyebrow. "Do you only have leather for me to wear?"

"Damn! I was going to lie and force you to wear it." Mello smirked. "Come on, can't we both agree that your ass would look fucking _edible_ in leather pants?"

I frowned at his word choice. "Edible?"

"I thought it sounded stronger than delicious or yummy." Mello shot me a cheeky grin. There was humor in his icy blue eyes.

I rolled down the window to throw out my cigarette. "We talk about my ass a lot."

Mello flicked the too-long bangs out of his eyes. "Does it bother you?"

"Not really." I crossed my arms over my chest. "You must think about it a lot."

Mello clicked his tongue. "Guilty."

I laughed.

I kept the window rolled downed and looked out for a while. The city was a blur. It was alive in the nighttime, but all the shadows and all the lights blurred in my vision. Maybe my eyes were still exhausted. I had a mild headache from staying awake so long and sleeping by the pool but I wasn't worried about it. "I think after we eat, I'm just going to sleep until next week."

"Amen, brother."

"Where are we eating?" I asked. "Because I'm content living off PopTarts and Goldfish. I'm just not sure if you felt like eating something else."

Mello stopped at an intersection with no traffic lights. He looked both ways, then motioned a car forward with two fingers. He sat back and waited. "Thinking about it."

"Think out loud. I tend to do that. A lot."

"You don't want to hear all of my thoughts."

"Good or bad?"

"Dangerous."

"Cryptic."

"I know. Pizza sound good?"

"Sure."

"Wait, I got it."

"No pizza?" I frowned. Almost whimpered like a puppy.

His grin was smug. "Nope, a surprise."

"I love surprises."

The rest of the car ride included me and Mello flipping back and forth between a pop station and an alternative rock station, old guys on bikes that looked like Jesus Christ, Mello honking at bagladies and telling me that he "gives them hop in their sodden states", me keeping my feet on the dashboard, Mello swerving and cursing at pedestrians, us pulling over to help a tourist find their way (or give faulty directions to further confuse them), me telling Mello it's good he speaks German after helping said tourist, and whatever the hell else you do in the car with drop-dead gorgeous blonde hooker (still convinced) named Mello.

As soon as we got up to Mello's apartment, he pointed in the direction of his shower and proceeded to flop down on his couch face-first.

I guess I'm taking a shower first, then. I grabbed a towel and stepped in. The second that hot water hit was like heaven. God, it was great. After a crazy night like last's, I needed this. I closed my eyes and felt my muscles relax. I could stand under this soft cascade of water forever. Again, time seemed immeasurable. And Mello was right. I did stink. After I was sure I shed the first layer of my epidermis, which is the stratum corneum (used to protect the other layers below it from infection, dehydration, chemicals, and mechanical stress, by the way), I shut the water off. But I regretted it the second my skin flushed with cold night air.

I stepped out of my shower, threw a towel around my waist, and headed for my room. On my way out, I glanced at the sink and thought to that weird that the toothbrush on the edge was a different color than mine. Maybe I changed it and forgot? Shrugging, I kept on going.

I couldn't wait to throw on my funny Pythagorean Theorem T-shirt and faded jeans, then shove my feet into the bunny slippers I like to pretend I don't have. It's not like anyone's ever seen them anyway. I wouldn't let them.

I was a little taken aback by the different furniture and floor plan that awaited me from the other side of the bathroom door. I hugged the ball of my dirty clothes to my chest. Da fuck…?

Oh, shit. I forgot I was in someone else's apartment. Just walked straight on out like it was mine. Now I'm standing in someone else's living room with someone else's towel loosely draped around my waist after taking a shower in someone else's shower (which surprisingly had a lovely assortment shampoos and conditioners.) I didn't think this through.

It would've been better if he was in another room. I could've retreated back into the bathroom without being seen. I could've talked through the door. But no, I stepped out of his bathroom like a half-naked dumbass. I didn't even dry myself off completely. So I'm wet. Wonderful.

And there he was. Mello wasn't in another room. He was right in front of me.

Staring at me directly from the other side of the room.

Awkward.

"So, um…clothes." I said, feeling incredibly self-conscious under Mello's shameless gaze. "Um, some would be nice right now."

He didn't answer. He sat across the room with a big hulking book on his lap. Oh, he reads. Nice to know.

But enough with the staring. Really.

I fisted a hand at my hip. "Hey, this wasn't some trick to see me naked, was it?"

Low, Mello. Just low. I am so going to get him back! Since he was apparently without words, I searched his face for an answer. No, he wasn't messing with me. A surprise. Seriousness flashed across over his face, like he was cursing himself for forgetting to put clean clothes in the bathroom as I showered. I respected him. For a moment.

Then his expression changed and he was smirking. Taking advantage of the situation. My face went hot. He may be only half-kidding, but I caught how his eyes twinkled mysteriously as he not-so-subtly ran his eyes down my body. "I should forget to give you clothes more often." Mello licked his lips seductively.

I threw my dirty clothes at him. "Pervert!"

He hid behind his stupid textbook, but I saw his shoulders shaking and I knew he was laughing. "Just go outside in that towel. With a body like that, nobody's going to complain. And if they do, they'll have to take it up with me!" He called after me as I stepped into his bedroom to put some clothes on. Sheesh.

Still flustered, I rummaged around for some clothes. Strictly avoiding all leather.

I mean, I look good naked. Don't get me wrong here, folks. But God. I have standards. Come on, what happened to dinner and a movie first? The good ole days when a man did that whimpy-ass "move" of pretending to yawn as he slipped his arm around his lady-friend? Now it's totally cool, if not encouraged, to "grab some junk that I don't know / and plant one right on him." I blame you, Cobra Starship. You and your addictive parody of Katy Perry songs. Burn in hell.

Okay, time to look for some shit to wear. I focused on the closet, the piles of shit shoved up in front of it blocking the door. I only wanted some old jeans and a fresh t-shirt. I doubted that I'd find either. I pawed at the top of the closest pile. Damn. It turns out Mello really is a fan on leather. That's all he had. I searched on, refusing to submit my angelic ass to such tight torture. Cause I take care of my ass like that. You should do the same. Captain Kirk would. Ewan McGregor does (that much is obvious, just watch _Moulin Rouge_).

I held up a shirt that said: _Sometimes I aim to please, but mostly I just shoot to kill._

Ha.

I found some other leather vests, some combat boots, then finally found a pile of T-shirts. They all had cheap logos on them. Mostly likely free pick-ups. There were some generic tees with words, a guitar, skulls. I couldn't wear any of these. I have a style. I can't stray from out. I dug around more. Finally, I settled on a tight black T-shirt that had two i's and an s locked together artfully to make a money sign. It was apparently a logo for a band named Innerpartysystem. Why not? I'm so hood rich. Word to the Gs.

I put the shirt aside to hunt for some pants. Leather leather leather. More leather. Goddamn. What can't this man wear anything else? I made a mental note to take him shopping someday. I finally found some beat up jeans and wrestled that out from under his bed.

"Mello, I hate you and your obsession with leather!"

"Mmmkayyyy." He called back.

I was bent over shifting through a pile of random shit to find the shirt I just misplaced when I heard something like a _click _coming from the door. Then the breathy mutter: "Fucking _edible_" coming from Mello, who was posed in the doorway. With a hand in his pocket and the other holding the doorknob, he was half-closed in the door. A peeping Tom.

I snapped upright. Ramrod straight, with my hands on the fisting the denim at my hips. My pants hung loosely at my waist, which were in the process of being zippered. The crotch area of the black boxers I found on the floor of Mello's closet was fully visible.

"You're horrible!" I shouted, voice breaking. "And _perverted!_"

Mello held my gaze. "Yeah. And?" He motioned to the jeans by flicking his eyes down to my legs. "Fit nice."

"Get out." I wasn't offended, just momentarily embarrassed. My body's fucking gorgeous, we all know that, but he doesn't get the privilege of seeing it as he pleases. Not yet, at least.

Sniggering, Mello turned to leave. Nuh-uh. Not so fast.

I caught his wrist on the opposite doorknob, almost shutting my arm in the door, and closed the distance between us. Even though my position was kind of awkward, our mouths still connected. At first, Mello was stiff and shocked. I moved my mouth against his smoothly and slowly, melting him into the kiss. I was going to make this jackass pay. He tried to dominate, but I pulled back for a breath then went back in. I kept the kiss sweet and sultry. My heart raced. Blood pounded in my ears. I felt his tongue slide across my closed lips. I pulled back again. He made a noise of protest. I waited a beat, teasing. Then I went kissed him again and I sucked on his lower lip.

He jerked back, his cheeks flaring a bright pink. His expression clearly said: _Fuck_.

I mentally smirked. He liked that.

Then I smirked for real. Staring into his eyes, I let the delicious victory sink in. He pushed me back into the room with a firm hand on my chest, jaw set. I yanked the door shut. "Next time, I'm charging you."

"Whore."

"The best."

"I do CEOs and millionaires. Pays good. Old dirtbags love my junk." I finished fastening my pants. I threw the Innerpartysystem shirt on. "I'm kind of a big deal in the trafficking world."

From the other room, I heard his low chuckle.

Matt: 1, Mello: 1

Once Mello got into his shower, I crashed. Yanking out a blanket stuck under one of the legs of his coffee table, I curled up under it and sunk into the couch cushions for a catnap. I didn't sleep long because I woke up still hearing the sound of running water. Not feeling up to creeping around Mello's apartment, because I could easily, I just flipped the TV on. I watched some awful reality show where kids from some honky tonk nowhere town got drunk and started fights and sunk out late to wrestle each other in a barn full of horseshit. What's with media these days?

I prefer watching the drama of the Final Fantasy world unfold with each new installment, thank you.

I heard Mello get out of the shower. He didn't say anything while he was passing through the living room, but I heard him brushing his teeth. The soft click of his bedroom door sounded behind me.

Finding myself strangely addicted to this trashy reality show, my eyes stayed glued to the screen. Long enough to remind myself to find an anime channel, but only just as Mello reentered the living room. He smashed a pillow over my head. "'Kay, Matty, let's get something to eat."

I laid back and stretched over the couch. "Then can we sleep?"

"Then we can sleep." He promised. On his way out, he picked up my green army jacket and put it on. What's with his fascination with wearing my jacket?

I guess cause it's friggen badass.

Like me.

Stepping into the parking lot, we came up to his car. "Can we name your car?" I asked.

"It's already got a name." Mello said.

"Oh." I was a little disappointed. All badass nerd names I could've used. Ah well. "What is it?"

He shrugged, unlocking his side of the car. "Betsy," he said, over the roof.

"Betsy?" He threw me the keys. I hacked at the lock as he slid in the driver's seat. "Why Betsy?"

"It's old as shit."

"Damn."

"I know."

"That's a cool name."

Mello laughed, surprised. "You're welcome." He started the car. "Here we go."

I pulled up the hood of my hoodie, leaned back in the seat, and played "Still Fly" by The Devil Wears Prada from my iPod. Which isn't so smooth for a relaxing soundtrack, because it's hardcore screamo, but trust me, the lyrics are freaking hilarious. They're meant to be. If you want a good The Devil Wears Prada song, look up "Louder than Thunder." Trust me, it's awesome. No screamo. Awesome lyrics. Great piano.

Mello nudged my shoulder when we came up on the place where we were eating. I sat up and looked out the front window, tugging the earbuds out of my ears.

We rolled up to the tiny Asian place kind of close to my apartment, actually. This is the same place around the corner, right? I leaned forward in my seat to read the sign as we passed under it. Yep. Same place. "Um, just curious, Mels. Why'd you pick this place?"

His face was a question mark. "You said it was your favorite."

I blinked in surprise. "When did I say that?"

"Last night after we peed ourselves laughing at the 'Like a Virgin' scene from _Moulin Rouge_…"

Ahh, the 'Like a Virgin' scene. Hands down my favorite. Who wouldn't like Jim Broadbent chasing the Duke – lol I don't know the actor's name – with in a blanket wrapped around his head singing Madonna's 'Like a Virgin' as the Duke waited to defile Nicole Kidman? Um, it's hilarious. The Duke makes a ton of rape faces. He's totally a creeper. I love it. If you haven't seen it, go watch it. Right now. Tell your parents "Matty-o said so."

"…you said, for whatever reason, that you wanted some General Tso's chicken. Because, you said, the best place is General Tso's chicken is The Paper Crane. And then you asked me if it was weird that you have The Paper Crane's number in your speed dial."

I blinked. Once. Twice. Third time's a charm.

He continued, "I also know that last year on your birthday you hid in your room and ordered double of everything on The Paper Crane's menu and ate it while playing videogames for 14 hours. It took your roommate/neighbor, I forget his name but I remember it was weird, pried the PS3 controller out of your hands and took you out."

Ah, yes. Beyond Birthday is pushy like that. I bet he would've spanked me for rotting my brain on an Asian food/videogame marathon had A not been attached to his side. Charlie, Mello's sassy gay friend/neighbor, is definitely full of rainbow and sparkles, but B can be just like him. Plus we're close, me and BB. He still walks into my apartment in his boxers or a towel to drink the chocolate milk by the carton from my fridge. We used to be roommates before A moved in next door. They met at the mailbox and they like to think the song "You Had Me at Hello" by A Day to Remember is their wedding song. They fell for each other instantly. Now BB bounces back between both places, but spends majority of his time at A's. That's his home now, really.

"You've got an exceptional taste in cuisine, Mels. This is Asian excellence."

"Yeah, well, I'm all sorts of excellent." Pulling the car into a spot, he stopped. He slid the key out of the ignition and slid some sunglasses on with the other hand. Even though it was nighttime. I gripped the door handle but he stopped me.

"This is not a date," he said. He got out of car, slamming the door behind him.

I didn't know what he meant by that, so I just followed him.


	5. Moonlight

**Moonlight **

Matt—

I physically couldn't run faster. The numbness in my legs kept the panic shooting through my head from crippling my senses. I needed to get home and it wasn't much farther. I needed to leave what happened at the restaurant behind. Needed to distance myself from it as fast as possible, as fast at my legs would take me. Come on, just keep pushing…

Mello was a little ways a head of me. He was the faster runner, an advantage for the both of us. If he wasn't running the right way, I'd put him on the right path by calling directions out to him. I struggled to keep up with his pace. I haven't run like this in such a long time. Now wasn't a time to play catch up or curse myself for not staying in shape. I just had to keep surging forward.

The air was sucked out of my lungs by the sharp night air. My hands, clenched in fists, were bone white. I swerved through the passersby, refusing to look back if I crashed into them. I did, however, shout an apology over my shoulder if I did.

We didn't have much farther to go. Luckily I didn't live that far from the restaurant.

"Come on, Matt!" Mello called over his shoulder. "Don't want to leave you behind."

"Keep going, I'll catch up!" I said. "We're almost there."

"Which one is it?" He asked.

"It's coming up on your right." I pushed further, quickening my pace. When Mello turned the corner into the parking lot of my apartment complex, I was close enough to touch his shoulder. "Almost there. It's these steps right here."

I watched him bound up the steps two at a time and I quickly followed. Once we cut into the right hallway, I saw the door to A and B's apartment open. "Mello, stop right here!" I called ahead to him just as he was coming up to it. "It's here!" I skittered to a halt at their door, the one next to mine. Mello had already stopped and he was leaning over, a hand on the wall, coughing and breathing heavy.

B came out first and I jumped him.

"Doll-face!" He greeted me, taking my face in both hands and kissing me on each cheek. I held on to his shoulders loosely, steadying myself and trying like crazy to catch my breath. "Have we had a thrilling day away from home?" He paused, looking over me with concern. "You've got crazy eyes. What's wrong?"

I was gasping, searching for the words. I made wild gestures as I tried to calm down. When I was okay, I smiled weakly at Beyond. Taking a deep breath, I was about to introduce Mello to BB and vice-versa when A emerged from their apartment. "Ahh. It's The Boy." A said warmly, patting my arm. A's forehead creased with confusion when he looked past me at Mello. "…and is this The Boyfriend?" He asked expectantly.

My face grew hot. I didn't know the answer to that question. I avoided eye contact Mello, covered my apprehension with a cough, and scratched the back of my head. Somehow I figured if I stared at the floor long enough, the answer would magically be written there. "Uh…"

BB nudged A. "They look as though they've seen a ghost. Before they ran into me." He pointed out thoughtfully. "We should be asking them what's happened to them in the past twenty minutes or so, judging from how they just calmed down enough to form thoughts."

"You've got crazy eyes." A agreed, putting it the same way B did just before. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I exchanged a look with Mello, who nodded me on to elaborate. "We just ran into some trouble." I took a deep breath. "With Cole."

"Shit, is he still messing with you?" A demanded, eyes wide with worry. "Do you need to hide in our apartment or something?" He asked, ready to unlock the door.

"We're okay. He's gone." I said in my most reassuring tone. "Thanks, though." I waved off his offer. "We can talk about it later. This is Mello, by the way." I motioned to Mello, who was standing by my side.

"Matt." A still looked worried. "Are you sure—"

"A, darling. The Boy said everything was okay." BB cut in, slipping an arm around A. He kissed the top of A's head, instantly smoothing the lines of worry on his face. "Hello, Mello." He said quiantly. "That's the first and last time you'll be called by that name. For here on out, to us"—He squeezed A's shoulders — "You shall be referred to as The Boyfriend." Beyond gave Mello a dazzling smile. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Yeah, nice to meet you." A said, shaking Mello's hand politely. "We were just heading out—"

"—To the grocery store." BB finished, practically bouncing with excitement. I gulped. Oh no. He spoke of the unspeakable place. "Why don't you come along with us?" He eyed Mello a little manically. "You're coming with us, whether you like it or not. _You_ have no choice."

"Be nice, Beyond." A chided, despite grinning. "You don't want to scare the poor fellow. Yet." They started down the hall, walking pinky-in-pinky. I smiled sympathetically at Mello and motioned for him to follow. I wished I could explain. But any way of rephrasing it would still basically come out like: Yes these are my crazy best friends. Yes they like to pretend they're my parents. Yes I kind of do spend an unhealthy amount of time with them. But they're zany and perfect.

"If you're the mystery man that's been taking care of The Boy for the past day, we must get to know you." B conceded.

Mello didn't look freaked out or repulsed by A and B's odd behavior. He was just hanging back, taking it all in. It was cool how understanding he was trying to be. I figured it must've been a lot of effort to appear at ease when first meeting A and B.

But I, however, still wasn't perfectly at ease with going to the grocery store with the Trouble Twins. Mainly because of BB. I pulled A aside, lowering my voice. "Has he had anything sugary in the past 80 minutes?" I stared into his eyes seriously. Maybe I was acting a little melodramatically. But still. "Sugar and the grocery store always ends badly for the all of us. We don't want another New Year's Eve 2009 incident."

A's eyes widened at the mention of New Year's Eve 2009. He didn't want to relive that either, even though to this day he'd still say that it makes a great story. Because it really does. It was one desperate, out-of-control, unforgettable night.

Mello shot me a look, like he was saying _I'd ask you what that is, but I know better. Besides, I can always make you tell me later. _He smirked.

"Let's just say I almost had a criminal record because of that night." A explained to Mello.

Mello laughed humorously. Despite how hard he was trying, I could tell he didn't know what to make of A and B just yet. I couldn't blame him.

Still I badgered A with questions. "Has he had enough sleep? You as much as me know we don't want to take a cranky Beyond Birthday to the grocery store."

A smiled reassuringly. "He's in proper order. Functioning at 100% and all. I made sure." A walked ahead to BB and looped his arm through BB's. "And you promise to be on your best behavior, don't you?"

B conceded again. He'd always concede to A. "Yes of course, darling."

A kissed him on the cheek. "Splendid."

A and B pushed on the smudged glass doors leading to the parking lot. A stopped to hold them open for Mello and I. Mello nodded a thank you at A, who looked approvingly at him.

"When am I ever not on good behavior?" B demanded.

"_At the grocery store_." A and I said together.

"Okay, okay. Let's just go." Mello said bravely. "I'm not scared of a criminal record."

BB patted Mello's cheek. "Good boy."

A stopped walking and BB stopped with him, since their arms were still looped together, and motioned to the empty parking lot. "Ready?"

B nodded and they both crouched. "It's on."

"3…2-" A broke hold of him and they sprinted for B's beat-up old van. I considered throwing myself in the race for the sake of winning the driver's seat. No one wanted B to drive. I didn't have a death wish. But instantly I saw A throw himself at the door, reaching it just before B got there. He laughed and slapped BB's hands away as B tried to jam the key in the lock. They crashed into each other and comically fought to pry open the door.

"They're a little crazy, right?" Mello asked me.

"Crazy isn't a strong enough word."

"Mentally insane?"

"Psychiatrically unwell?"

"Dangerously fanatical?"

"Now you're just describing teenage fangirls."

Mello snorted. "My bad."

Once Mello and I had crossed the parking lot, I noticed A had victoriously wedged himself half in the driver's seat door. B was trying in vain to tickle a victory out of A, but A successfully batted BB's hands out of the way because he was in fact very ticklish.

By the time I came up to the spot, I cleared my throat and held my hand out. Still laughing, B relented and forked his keys over. Once he dropped them in my palm, I took him by the arm and walked him to the passenger-side seat. I opened the door and he climbed in. I turned to leave, but doubled back. "Did we buckle our seatbelt?"

B raised an eyebrow. "Who's the parent here?"

"You are." I said. "But who said kids couldn't take care of their parents too?"

He rustled my hair. "Well-put, son."

"Just buckle the damn belt." I shut the door.

Returning to the driver's seat side of the van, I handed the keys to A. "Here. You drive this time. Again I'm preventing another New Year's Ever 2009 incident."

"I always knew you were a Mama's Boy." A winked and climbed into the driver's seat.

"How well can hold your food?" I asked Mello.

His eyebrows shot up. "I've got a good stomach, why?"

I shrugged, opening the backseat of the van. "No reason. Hop in."

* * *

><p>I knew there was a God in Heaven when we all reached the grocery store in one piece. Despite A's tendency to get distracted by B when he's driving, I trusted him a shit-ton more than BB with our lives. Not only does BB get eclipsed by every other little thing, he drives on sidewalks, lets go of the steering wheel, has races with other cars in the middle of traffic, has conversations with other drivers at intersections, increases speed at red lights, and sits on other people's bumpers. If it was legal and not against physics, he'd drive everywhere backwards just for the thrill. Actually, he might be better driving backwards. But I'm not going to test that theory. Again, I don't have a death wish.<p>

A's a fair driver, but he's only been in practice for a little over a year. Two summers ago I taught him how to drive. And lord, was that hard. For a while I thought he was physically inept at driving. He read a driver's manual front, back, sideways, longways, and then again for entertainment's sake. Along with badgering me about my own driving skills, he felt the need to point out every safety code I was in violation and continuously reminded me of the state of California's driving laws.

When I put him behind the wheel, he spent seven minutes adjusting his seat and mirrors to the proper angle. He also freaked out and stopped the car in the middle of the street when I took a deep breath, accusing me of distracting him. Hot damn, A's a smart kid. But seriously? There's a difference between acing the written test and possessing the skill to apply the knowledge.

More or less, you should gather that I can do basically anything. My true name isn't Matt, its Moses. For being able to perform miracles. Speaking in terms of the Bible, I'll piggyback from one biblical reference to another to express my next thought: I sent a silent prayer of gratitude to Jesus Christ when my combat boots hit the asphalt of the parking lot. Then I thanked Zelda in Hyrule for keeping us all safe.

"A," I said, sliding open the van's side door. The cold night air rushed in and I wrapped my jacket more tightly around my arms. I stepped out onto the parking lot's cracked, oil-stained asphalt under the bright midnight moon. Was it me or is hanging out with Mello making me nocturnal? "I'd like to formally thank you for not skewering me and Mello back here."

"It would've been too easy." BB turned back to grin at us, a hint of hysteria in his eyes. "If we're going to skewer you, we'll find a more destructive, gory, artistic way of going about it. You won't see it coming. And don't expect your deaths to be brought to justice."

"Bring it, Birthday." Mello said. The confident air about him wasn't belittling or arrogant. It was sexy. I felt myself grinning and blushing at the same time. Both satisfied with Mello's answer, A and I looked to BB, eager for his reaction.

BB eyes widened, a plastered grin showing up on his face. He'd been shown up in his own car. Instead of addressing Mello, his huge eyes locked down on me. "I'm impressed. Where did you find this one?"

"You've got your own." I scoffed playfully. "So I'm not telling."

Joining me in outside the car, BB turned to me. "He's better than half the trash at Two-Seven."

A fixed him with a hard look, facially reminding Beyond to be nice.

"You work at Two-Seven?" Mello asked BB. We started walking towards the light of the sliding glass doors of the grocery store. "I've been there a few times, it's cool."

"I do bartending on weeknights." B said. "And it's really a dump, but thanks."

"It's to pay for school." A finished. He tugged on the sleeve of B's black hoodie. "Shall we?"

BB nodded him forward. "We shall."

Hand in hand, they raced ahead to get a shopping cart.

Mello turned to me, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. "What's he studying?"

"For a long time he wanted to do something in Criminalistics, but decided against it. Now he's studying to be a high school AP Calculus teacher." I watched A climb into the shopping cart BB pulled out for him. Once he sat down, I watched as BB wheeled A through the sliding glass doors of the grocery store. "Really I think it's a cover. He has to do something with Forensics, it's his talent. He's got the skills for a behavioral analysis unit. You know, like _Criminal Minds_ stuff? He can get into the mind of a criminal so easily and so perfectly it's not even funny." I glanced at Mello and for a weird moment, I got the feeling like my last comment made him uncomfortable.

We ran out of parking lot to cross, so we ended up meeting up with A and BB inside quicker than I thought. BB stood a few feet away from A, who was sitting crossed-legged in the shopping cart, and was picking some tortilla chips from the bottom of the shelf. He threw some to A, who caught them expertly. A set them down next to him in the cart, opened them, and started eating some without paying.

"You know, your friends are treating the grocery store kind of like a playground." Mello said. "How old are they?"

"According to the state or by behavior?" I asked. "Because they're both adults, technically. But, seriously, how could you witness that and wanna say, like, seven years old? Maybe younger."

"Yeah, I'm with you." Mello picked up a shopping basket. "I hope you don't have much to buy because this is all you're getting. No way in hell I'm going out to the cold to get you a shopping cart now that we're inside. It's too warm in here and I'm too lazy anyway." He reached out to give it to me. "You're welcome to try to sit in this."

BB wheeled his shopping cart and A up to us. A stuck out his arm, despite the fact that he should probably keep both arms and legs inside the vehicle all the times for safety reasons, and held up the open tortilla chip bag to us. "Anyone want one?"

Mello waved a dismissive hand. "Nope, I'm cool."

Beyond read my expression all to well. "What are you worried about, Jeevas?" He demanded. "We're the only ones here."

"What about the hobo we call Captain Jack that we sometimes find sleeping in the spice aisle?" I threw back at him. "It's past 8 PM on a Saturday night. Where else would Captain Jack be, Beyond?"

"The Boy's right." A said, eating another tortilla chip. "We should check. And besides, these chips could use some salsa. Can we pick some up on the way?"

BB was pointed the shopping cart in the right direction. "Sure thing, darling."

"A," I called. "Take care of this one." I pointed after BB. "I swear if he does anything to start a lawsuit, I'm not bailing either of you out!"

"I promise to keep my promise." A told me. He looked up at BB, who was driving the shopping cart like he'd drive a car—recklessly. In a moment, I'd start counting all the displays he'd knocked over. "Look for the aisle with the salsa! In some stores, they've got a whole section marked 'Latin American.' We're looking there first."

"Your powers of deduction never cease to impress me."

"Just drive straight, beloved."

As A and B disappeared someone down some faraway aisle, Mello motioned ahead for us. "Are we starting in the fruits and vegetables section?"

I snorted. "Who needs those?"

"Well, I'm figuring we can walk through this grocery store in a grid-line fashion. It takes more time but it's the most effective way to survey a crime sce—I mean, grocery store."

"You're not wrong." I deadpanned. We both heard A and B's loud laughter and a terrible crashing noise. "_Look's like Captain Jack's taken to the ocean…" – "For a jolly ole swim!" – "…Because he's not here!" _I heard A and B yell. My shoulders slumped. "This place is soon going to be a crime scene. This is what we get for bring BB out in public."

* * *

><p>Mello stood directly in front of me, filling up my peripheral vision with the unfocused black of the leather he was wearing. "Are they always like that?"<p>

Without looking up, I could see the rise and fall of his chest as he waited for me answer. After a moment, I glanced up from the two brands of cake mix I was comparing to look at him in the face. "Hmm?"

Mello pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the freezer section where B had A pressed against one of the freezers. The two were locked in what appeared to be a breakup-then-makeup scene. They exchanged heated words, mostly in fierce whispers so I couldn't catch what they were saying. A looked like he was on the verge of tears. He tried weakly to shove BB away. BB kept him in his arms, softening his attack. His face conveyed anguish as he pleaded for A's forgiveness. A pushed him back. The second his arms were empty, his looked just as anguished as B. They stared at each other for an intense moment. Then A clutched onto B as though he needed the strength to stand. He raised his tear-stricken face to B's and murmured quiet concessions to him. In the middle of a sentence, B kissed A in the softest way. For a moment I didn't think they touched. Then their bodies connected explosively. B knocked A back into the freezer and kissed him feverishly.

I looked away when it got uncomfortable to watch. "Oh, that. Yeah, that's normal." I returned to the cake mix boxes. "Does it bother you?"

He shrugged. "Not really, no."

"Tell me where you draw a line," I told him earnestly. "I wouldn't want them scaring you off."

"Matty, it's cool." He smirked. It had a reassuring effect on me, despite his intention to appear cocky. "I don't scare easily."

I smiled despite myself. It's totally cheesy to say that I loved it when he called me Matty, but it's true. "Good because the average person would've ditched after the crazy shit that happened back at The Paper Crane."

"As you dated him, did it ever occur to you that he was certifiably insane?"

"Yeah." I said. "But he was so great in bed, I didn't care."

Mello snorted. "You know, I'm beginning to question your judge of character."

"I can't speak for myself, but…" I put the cake mix boxes back on the shelf. I glanced back in A and B's direction. Now they were broken apart and talking excitedly about Gandalf-knows-what, hands pressed to the freezer previously used a prop for their little soap opera production. Just like that, they were loading ice cream into their cart. "Although they're a little much sometimes, they're harmless." I said.

"Yeah," Mello stared vacantly down the freezer aisle. "They've really rewritten the definition of normal for me."

"Don't worry." I bumped his shoulder with mine as we walked down the opposite aisle. "You're doing good. With me and them and Cole and everything."

"You're welcome." Mello smiled darkly, bumping me back. "Did you underestimate me?"

"I would've literally bet my right arm that you'd've ran the second the car stopped in the parking lot." I told him. "Or the head of my unborn child."

Mello shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I've still got time to run."

"If you do, please take this to the car." I grinned and pushed the basket of food into his arms to hold. He stepped back, looking baffled and pleased at the same time. I got a feeling he loved when I challenged him. That wasn't going to end anytime soon.

"You've got so much faith in me." Mello accused, despite laughing. He took the basket from my hands.

"I've got an encouraging amount of faith in people." I said, smiling sarcastically.

Mello bumped me again. "Smart ass."

"Why is my ass always a subject of our conversations? Damn it, Mello. Control yourself. It's an obsession, isn't it?"

"You caught me." Mello stopped short, too suddenly for me to notice. I kept on walking until I realized why Mello had stopped. I had only taken a few steps but I turned around quickly, eyes narrowed. Mello's eyes flicked up just in time. By the expression he tried to hide, I could tell he had been undressing—practically raping me—with his eyes. "Just keep walking." He said gruffly. "Actually, can you try walking a little slower? I wanna see your ass in slomo."

"Oh?" My eyebrows shot up. "How about this?" I said, turning around to face him and walking backwards. I smirked. Mofo, take that.

His icy blue eyes held mine. "Matt, I equally enjoy your front."

I pretended to be offended, but really I was loving this. How often have you caught an insanely hot guy checking out your butt? "There's no winning, is there?" I asked coyly.

He smile was tight, teasing. "Not for you, no."

Just then, A skated by standing on the foot-bar of his shopping cart. BB chased after him, waving his arms like a madman. The cart barreled past us and down the aisle, picking up speed. Mello cupped his hands to his mouth like he was going to shout to A to put his feet down to stop the cart. He didn't have enough time to say anything. "Oh, shit~"

"Matt." Mello said seriously, coming up to stand beside me. "Have you ever wondered…" We watched a cackling BB fall to his knees when A crashed the cart into one of the grocery store's displays. He pushed the bread boxes away in order to scoop A off the ground. Once he found A, who was laughing just as hard, BB held out his hand and helped him up. "_What the fuck are they on?" _

"After the first year of knowing them, I stopped trying to figure that out." I told him. "I made a promise to myself not to care anymore." I mouthed a _You okay?_ to A, finally back on his feet. Through his laughter, BB was still on his knees, apologizing profusely. He clutched onto the hem of A's shirt, head buried in his stomach, half-laughing, half-crying. A smile broke on A's face as he held on to BB's shaking shoulders. I rolled my eyes and heaved a sigh of relief. "Crazy kids." I motioned for Mello to walk in the other direction. "Turn into this aisle. There's a sale on cases of soda. If we can buy enough, I love making a fort out of the cases. You know, kind of like an igloo?"

"Is this a typical grocery store run?" Mello asked, serving all the can goods of the aisle we'd started strolling down. "Making soda-case igloos, witnessing pornographic freezer aisle make-out secessions, and wrecking the damn place?"

"Yeah, this is pretty much a typical Saturday night for me." I glanced over some can goods pricing. I studied the label of some delicious-looking Spaghetti-Os. "When I'm out of the house and not staying up to a crazy hour of the morning trying to PWN noobs on WoW." I threw the can of Spaghetti-Os into the basket Mello was holding.

"Seriousy?" He glanced down at the can, then back at me, his too-long bangs threatening to fall in his cobalt eyes. "Are you five years old?"

"What?" I folded my arms over my chest childishly. "It's fucking delicious."

Mello just sniggered to himself.

"Are you really going to judge me when all you own is PopTarts and Goldfish?"

"Yes. A few years ago, I became an anti-Campbell's-Soup-ist. I protested the selling of Spaghetti-Os in grocery store franchises such as this." He spread out his arms, motioning to the store around us. "It's a religion that I'm a pious member of. We meet in an abandoned warehouse on Thursday nights and bitch about our worst experiences with food of the Campbell's Soup Label." He looked at me seriously. "Mostly people come who are promised a good, anti-Campbell's Soup meal. So I've met a lot of interesting people who have suffered food poisoning, N20 poisoning, scurvy, diarrhea, heartburn, and sudden death from eating anything from the Campbell's Soup Label. Including," Mello stuck the can in my face. "Spaghetti-Os."

"Jackass. If you were nice, I was going to share with you."

"Really?"

"No." I said. "You're just full of… it."

"What?"

"It." I said matter-of-factly.

"And that is?" He prompted.

I surrendered. "Badassery."

Mello smirked. "Now that, you can join. We meet on Mondays."

"Um, I think I'm too badass to join a group for those who practice 'Badassery.' If you have to sit in a circle and talk about your Badassery, then really you're just a poser. Come on, that's below me."

"Cocky bastard." Mello said admiringly. He didn't try to hide how impressed he was.

I smirked. "You got that right."

"I'm right about everything."

"Touché."

* * *

><p>"Alright, dolls. Time to go home." BB said, putting the keys in the ignition and sitting back in his seat. I touched his shoulder with one hand, getting his attention— "Hmm?"—and handed him his seatbelt with the other. He turned back to look at us, his spiky bangs sliding partially over his eyes. "Did we enjoy ourselves at the grocery store?" A tapped on the door and BB reached over the driver's seat to open the door for A.<p>

"Yeah." Mello said, smirking at me. "But, um…" He cleared his throat, leaned forward in his seat, and looked completely nonchalant and mildly curious when he asked, "What was up with you guys in the freezer aisle?"

"What about it?" A slid into the driver's seat and turned on the ignition. He peered into the rearview mirror before backing out of our parking space. "We got a discount on Moose Track's ice cream."

"And Mint Chocolate Chip." BB added. He popped open a bag of candy and dropped some in his mouth, looking through the front window and side window curiously. The nightlife seemed to distract and infinitely fascinate him.

A turned to BB. "Give me some," he demanded. He glanced at moment at the passing cars, then leaned over and held open his mouth for BB to feed him. I suppressed the urge to yell at him to keep his eyes on the road. To stay focused while driving.

I bit back my concern by clarifying Mello's comment earlier. "No, what characters were you playing today? We saw you fighting or, uh…something."

"Oh, that." BB said, grinning wickedly. He and A shared a secret smile. "We pretended to have a fight so we could have make-up sex later."

Mello seemed unfazed. "Couldn't you have sex anyway? Fake fight or not?"

"Make-up sex is always hotter."

Mello laughed. "Not disagreeing with you there."

"Besides, roleplaying is fun too."

"Truthfully, I can't get enough of him," A said. BB winked at him and Mello smirked.

"They get along so well." A told me.

"Yes." I agreed. "It's scary."

A turned on the radio. He switched it on to the radio station that I recognized as his favorite indie station. Some techno song played and A instantly identified it. "Aww, eff yes. It's Innerpartysystem's new song. _This_ is the kind of shit they should play in clubs." He met Mello and I's eyes through the rear-view mirror. "If you like this, check out their old stuff too. But the Klaypex remix of this song, which is called 'It's Not Getting Any Better', is _sick_." He turned to BB. "For whatever reason, I think of you when the guy screams 'your love!' when the beat plunges."

"I am honored." BB said. He reached over to A and smoothed a wayward lock of A's hair behind his ear.

A stopped us at a red light and sang softly to the song. _I'm awake every night / and you're cutting through my head just like a knife_ _/ 'cause I can't get by without your love._

I glanced at Mello. I didn't mean for it to happen, but the only thing we could all hear was A's singing. It filled up the quietness of the van. The red traffic light was our only source of light other than the light of the stars—a red shadow cast over all our faces. I didn't think this was an eerie scene until, as we all kept listening to A (…_All my friends say I should give it up / I know it's never easy but nothing ever was…_), for a brief moment, I swear I saw Mello's features bend to display recognition. Like he thought for a moment that he recognized A's voice, but struggled to place it.

I didn't know what this meant. There were two spectrums to this. Either Mello forgets it and doesn't try to place what he's just heard, or he doesn't forget it—consciously or subconsciously—and doesn't stop until he figures it out.

Everything would fall apart if he placed A's voice. Everything would fall apart if he figured out who A was.

I could almost feel the pressure that builds up to a catastrophe. It was like the smelling gunpowder before an explosion or seeing the wave before it came down on you or watching the bullets fly at you or tasting the poison before it kills you.

BB sensed it too, thank all the Valar in Middle-Earth, for he nudged A. "Dearest? The light's green."

A was frozen. He realized what he'd just done. "I can't…" He whispered. Barely audible, his voice cracked. "I-I-I can't…"

No, A. Don't. Come on.

"Something wrong?" Mello asked. I studied his expression for a moment. He hadn't noticed anything, but I could tell he was confused. Genuinely confused. Not suspicious, not even curious yet. It had happened suddenly, after all. How the mood of the night was thrown into the silent panic of carefully kept secrets threatening to unravel.

"Hey, the light's green, A." I said, hoping to mask my building anxiety with nonchalance. "Is it your contacts?" I asked casually. God, I hoped I didn't sound like a jackass. It was becoming very clear that A was starting to spiral. Soon he would send himself into a spiral of doubt and depression. Even if it hurt him in a small way now, I had to stop him before it went too far.

"No, I just…" A said. He laughed a bit ruefully. He pressed on the gas, inching the car forward, starting it slowly. "I just forgot which street will take us, uh, back home." His voice was quiet, defeated.

"Just keep moving forward." BB said softly. They weren't talking about streets.

"Actually, can you drop us off at The Paper Crane?" I cut in. "We left Mello's car in the parking lot there."

"Oh yeah." Mello said, as if he'd just remembered.

Our eyes met. I think he was wondering about the same thing. What was going to happen after we got Mello back to his car? Is this when we part ways? I felt empty even thinking about it. Maybe it was too soon, but I sort of got used to Mello being by my side. Especially with this night, I showed him what my life was like on a daily basis. I felt like he knew me on another level.

With A and B eating and driving in the front of the car, Mello spoke only to me. "When we get my car, I think I'm just going to drive it to the parking lot of your place. Home is kind of far and I'm sure if I tried to drive, I'd fall asleep at the wheel. Besides—"

"You don't need to explain. The answer is yes. I mean, you're basically inviting yourself over, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah." Mello said frankly. "I tried to put it more eloquently, but—"

"No need." I cut him off before this got awkward and full of sentiment. "Just stay."

"Good. I wasn't going to take no for an answer."

"Without my free place to stay, you might've had the chance to meet Captain Jack because you would've been sleeping on the streets. You're lucky I'm so generous." I clarified, "Along with the grocery store, he crashes in the alley beside our apartment."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. In the mornings, A and B stand on the fire escape and throw breadcrumbs down to the hobos. Sort of like a ritual."

"I forgot one morning and I think that was the day he almost died of a stroke or something." A confirmed, speeding up through a yellow light and turning the van so sharply it threatened to tip over.

B ate some more of his candy. I held out a palm to him and he filled it up with from sugary-looking gummy worms. "That wasn't a stroke. It was something else, but I don't remember what it was."

"Whatever happened," A said. "There was an ambulance and everything."

I put the candy in my mouth. My face distorted in an expression of disgust. "Ew—da fuck is this?"

"It's sour candy." BB said, studying the bag. "You didn't gather that from the tart coating?"

"I thought it was sugar!" I cried. If there was any place to throw this up, I'd spit it all out.

Mello turned to BB, a palm outstretched. "Give me some, it's my favorite."

"Do you want me to throw up some of this for you?" I told him, choking on the gummy worms. I awkwardly tucked them under my tongue, desperately waving my arms without a place to spit these out.

"Yeah." Mello said, leaning towards me with his mouth open. He was kidding, but still. My eyes threatened to water. I think my throat was closing up. Everything tasted sour and icky.

Shaking my head, I crawled to the side the door. With a hand clasped over my mouth, I used the other to throw the door open. A gust of cool night air sucked into the van like a twister, shaking us all and setting me off balance.

"Matt, whoa—Are you crazy?"

"The fuck are you doing?"

As I leaned out of the car, I felt Mello grip me around securely around the waist. He was close, so I heard him whisper, "Don't get us all killed, dumbass." I gripped the back of A's seat and spit the stupid gummy worms out to the street as the car was moving.

"Be careful! Don't fall out!"

"Hold on~"

"Close the door!"

"FUCKING CHRIST, EVERYONE SHUT UP."

That silenced everyone. The cough rising in my throat prevented me from thanking Mello for quieting A and BB's onslaught of worry and demands.

With the city whirling by so close I could touch it, I leaned back into the car and took a deep breath. "What?" I turned to everyone, wiping off my mouth with my sleeve. "I don't like sour candy."

"That was a little crazy." BB said once the door was closed. I retreated into Mello's arms. Holding me, he pulled me closer, further into the van and let me sit against him. "To put it mildly, I think you over-reacted."

"Everyone calm down, we're here." A announced. I leaned into the front seat to watch us pass under The Paper Crane sign. "No one's dying tonight."

The second Mello's crappy old car was in sight, I jumped out with Mello, but not before BB smacked me on the back head. "That was for scaring us half to death!" A called as I closed the van's side door.

We both climbed into Betsy and Mello followed BB's van back to our apartment complex, which wasn't far.

When we all rejoined each other, A and BB raced ahead hand-in-hand. Probably to have their fake make-up sex or whatever.

"Come on, home is this way." I ushered Mello to door with my room number. As we passed by A and B's door, it was just falling shut. Entering my apartment, we didn't say much because we were both wiped out by the day's events. Okay, we slept through most of today—enough to miss the daylight—but we were still recovering after our all-nighter. When I suggested sleep to Mello, he agreed without hesitation. He threw his leather coat on my couch and surveyed my apartment with a cursory glance.

Taking off my shirt as I walked, I said, "Need anything?"

"Nope."

"Good, because I really wasn't concerned about your health." I shot him a cocky grin, which he received with a smirk. I entered my bathroom for my flannel pajama pants with the multicolored joysticks on them.

I walked into my room and found Mello in my bed. I paused. "What are you doing?"

"Going to sleep." He said like it was nothing. He was settling down on his side, pulling my Super Mario sheets up around his shoulder.

"In my bed?" I said, hovering at the foot of the bed. I found his leather all piled up on the floor by the side of the bed that he'd gotten in on. "Without asking me or anything?"

"Yeah, you did the same." Mello said, nestling into the pillows to get comfy. "Back at my place. You didn't ask me, just jumped right in until I woke up and found you there."

I wasn't going to argue that. I was just too damn tired to. I didn't really care that he was going to sleep in my bed with me. I was just shocked when I walked into the room—it's not often you find a sleepy hot-as-fuck slightly narcissistic chocolate-loving unpredictable devilishly handsome overall pretty strange man in your bed.

"Touché." I said, falling into the mattress beside him.


	6. Daybreak

**A/N-** Dear, dear readers: First off I'd like to say that I seriously appreciate you reading this story. Your support for me is incredible. I love every word of every review. Thank you! :) Secondly I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to write this chapter! Hoo boy. My life has been craaazy and funny and awkward and amazing since I last wrote this story and talked to you guys. But amid it all, I've been planning everything out and I've been thinking of all of you! Thirdly, you've heard enough from me…go and read this chapter...RIGHT NOW! :3

Love&hugs!,

Meohy

* * *

><p><strong>Daybreak <strong>

A—

"Bumble B?" I shifted for a moment, moving to snuggle into B's side. Still under the sheets, I slid my hand over to his side of our bed. It should have been warm, soft, and full of him. But it wasn't. Instead, it was empty. I peered around the room hazily. Biting my lip to keep from yawning, I flipped over to a sitting position. "Where are you?"

"_Buzzzz_." He hummed from the other room. "Buzz buzz buzz. In here, honey!"

I grinned, rubbing my eyes more awake. I loved it when he did that. Damn, we're so corny.

Rolling out of the bed, I pulled on some boxers. Even though it's only me and B, I still feel weird walking around the apartment naked. It's weird and maybe a little crazy, but I always feel like I'm being watched. I'm paranoid despite the fact I'm at home and I'm with the love of my life. But at a time in my life, I was constantly followed by paparazzi.

When I was famous, I was miserable. Amid all the roaring crowds, bright stage lights, painted faces, _screaming_ fans, the CD signings that lasted for hours, the blinding flash of the cameras that stayed behind my eyes for days, the late night parties and always feeling alone, the drinking, the competition, the endless interviews, the appearances, the magazine articles, the arms that reached up and held signs, the top chart ratings, the awards, the sold-out stadiums, the lies and equally fake promises—I lost myself. All the _talking, talking, talking. _The _screaming_ of the fans, the silent _aching_ that I felt deep within me. Feeling sick. Feeling like a puppet. Feeling fake. Feeling lost.

I wanted to make music to express myself to someone else, for someone to understand me with words I couldn't say. I wanted to reach out and have some receive me without judgment. Just wanted someone to know me. Instead I got people who used me. People that pinched, prodded, starved, suffocated me—took me and stretched me until I got so tired. Made my dream and then transformed it with treachery, made it into a loud, empty, illuminated nightmare.

From time to time, I still feel like they're out to get me—the ruthless paparazzi, the "adoring" fans, the hounding managers, the mindless interviewers, the ravenous journalists. B's told me before, "For you, the feeling of always being watched never really left. But I'm here. I'm here, and I want to make sure you're safe. You'll always be safe with me." And it's true. I've got nothing to worry about. That part of my life is over. I'm starting over. With him.

I don't want to hang onto something that's caused me so much pain. _Regrets aren't written in today's horizon, _I thought. _Today is going to be a good day._ I rub my eyes hard. Pushing the bad thoughts out of my mind, I sleepily treaded to the bathroom, the source of B's buzzing. The thought that Beyond's waiting for me, that he holds so much love for me, made me smile. He looked up at me with those dazzling eyes of his and dimpled at me like a goof. _You are so cute. _I grinned back and walked to the sink. "Morning, glory."

He took the tooth brush out of his mouth to murmur, "Mornin'."

Matt—

I stumbled into the kitchen, the only thought running through my mind: _coffee coffee coffee. _I narrowly avoided my impressive stack/library/hoard of video games. (Yes multiple times BB has told me that he's going to call _Hoarders _because I have a problem with collecting and playing too many videogames).

In my frantic search for caffeine, I was mildly surprised when I found a torn sticky note on the coffeepot that read:

I was bored, so I made coffee.

P.S. You're welcome.

Looking over my shoulder, I saw Mello standing sheepishly in the doorway.

His eyes flicked down, addressing the note he'd written. "Your coffeemaker's a bitch. Almost burned my damn hand off. It made me appreciate my coffeepot at home. Keurig's the shit."

I poured some Mello-made coffee into my Mr. Spock mug, sending Mello a blearily look of appreciation. Without his _coffee coffee coffee_, Matty is _grumpy grumpy grumpy._ And something tells me, speaker in third person, that Mello doesn't put up with that shit. "So you're familiar with my kitchen now?"

Mello leaned on the doorframe, hands tucked in the pockets of the sweats he must've found on my bedroom floor. "Besides the vibrant-colored frying pans, mismatched silverware, and dorky collectables mugs, it's just like mine. So yeah, I'm familiar with your kitchen." Mello stared at me fixedly. "Is that a problem? Don't tell me you're password-protecting this shit just because I went through it to make your edible ass coffee this morning." He shrugged, turning his head to look out the window that was streaming in early morning sun. "Oh, and I think I broke one of your cabinets because it was a pain in my gorgeous ass." – I cracked a grin – "Amid the whatthefuckery of trying to figure out someone's kitchen, it refused to close. So I got angry." Mello jerked his chin (which had me staring a beat too long at his jaw, and therefore, that seductive mouth of his) in the direction of the table. A jagged piece of wood that I assume was previously half of my cabinet door lay in a considerably neat fashion on my table. "I saved what I could. Deal with it."

"That's the broken cabinet." I said brilliantly, sticking my cup into the microwave for 30 seconds. It was too early and Mello was giving me a lot to process. As I listened to him all I really heard was _vibrant—shit—coffee—morning—cabinet—gorgeous ass_.

I found myself again staring at his mouth. Just 'cause I wanted to. This morning, when I woke up, that's the first thing I saw. Mello's mouth. (Yes I was that close his face, and yes I was inwardly fangirling as much as you would.) This morning I woke up on Mello's chest. I don't know how I got there, but I figured I got cold in the night and gravitated to body heat. There was evidence of this, for I had zero covers when I woke up. My Hotass Black-Boxer Wearing friend had cocooned himself completely in all the damn Super Mario blankets (yeah, yeah, I should probably grow up and buy some new sheets—but c'mon, they're just _so dang cool_).

Anyway, back to the snuggling Mello part. I woke up and I was pressed into his side, my arms thrown around him, holding him. And was holding me back, with a loose arm at my lower back. My face was nestled all nice in his shoulder. I was happy to learn that I wasn't drooling on him. He was so damn warm and fucking Christ, it felt so perfect to be in his arms. So I pulled back a little and studied his mouth because it was first thing I saw in my proximity to Mello. I was thinking about how great his lips were, how great they tasted and how they felt against mine. In that moment, I so wanted to kiss him. The way his mouth was innocently parted open…I wanted to slip my tongue _slowly, slowly, carefully _between those parted lips and rouse him out of his sleep gently…

…I could taste it. I closed my eyes, waited a beat. Took a steadying breath. When I opened my eyes, Mello was still there, looking sleepy and silent and fucking adorable. Instead of kissing _and _scaring the shit out of him, I resigned to smoothing the hair out of his eyes. Therefore I was given the chance to pet the man's face (because I am that creepy). Tracing across his forehead, softly, slowly. Down the side of his face, over his gaunt cheeks, his strong jaw line. I carefully cupped the side of his face and rubbed his cheek with my thumb. It was so nice that I didn't have time to process that this was probably awkward because we'd only known each other for two days.

I would've been content petting Mello, but he shifted in the next moment and I panicked. I threw myself to the other side of the bed, cursing Hyrule Temple. I pretended to be asleep on the other side of the bed, shivering alone. Mello didn't say anything. I felt his sleepy, yet somehow still intense, stare boring wholes into my back. Although it was daybreak, I fell into an easy sleep, hoping to remember what just happened as a dream.

Back in the kitchen, I picked up the coffee cup, not by the handle, and realized too late that it was burning hot. Jerking my hand away, I dropped the mug. There was a loud crash at the porcelain hit the counter. The coffee spilled all over the place. I shut the door to the microwave quickly. "_Shit!_"

Mello moved closer. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." I smiled a little. "Thanks."

"That was my first word, you know." Mello ignored my dismissive reply and handed me a roll of paper towels to clean up the mess.

"Hmm?" I said, sticking my singed fingers in my mouth like a child.

"Believe it or not…" Mello, taking my hands in his, turned on the sink and let the water run over the slight burns. "_Shit_ was my first word, which is sort of fitting."

My eyes bugged. Mostly because I was in pain. "You serious?"

"Yep." Mello squirted some soap onto my hands and began working it in. "I couldn't pronounce the letter R yet and I was trying to say that I wearing a _shirt _but it came out like _shit._"

"Aww." I smiled. "How cute."

Mello didn't return the smile since he was focusing hard on tending to my hands. But his expression read, _Shit happens. _Ironically. Or, rather, purposefully.

I heard the door open. "Whoa." A said, shielding his eyes from the sun that streamed through my kitchen window. He came closer and absentmindedly murmured to Mello, "The way the sun hit you, you almost looked like an angel." A ran his fingers through his wayward black-and-white hair, stopping short. His eyes had fallen Mello and I's intertwined hands in the sink. "Oh my God, you're totally having a moment and I _so _interrupted it! I'm so sorry! B told me to wait but like an idiot I barged in anyway. Next time I'll knock I swear! It's just that I was so excited and—"

"Don't worry about it," I told him. "Seriously. I burned my hands trying to microwave coffee. So that makes _me_ the idiot."

"Yeah, it's no problem." Mello shrugged, working the soap into my knuckles. "Never been called that before. An angel, I mean. Dude at a bar once addressed me as 'Mr. Walking Sex.' But that's all." He glanced at A. "I think you've inspired my Halloween costume this year. Congrats."

I watched Mello flip my hands over to check for anymore signs of singe marks. As the water slashed over my palms, he massaged the area with his thumbs. I looked at his face in awe. He was taking care of me and I was so into it. His eyes met mine and he gave me a funny look. Like it was nothing.

"Well, you're looking immaculate this morning." A bowed a little to Mello, like how he would if he was finished with a show. My mind mentally edited in his guitar, but I stopped the thought short.

"There." Mello finished my hands and presented them to me. "Looks like you'll live, though there's still no cure for idiocy."

I narrowed my eyes unamusedly. "Very funny."

A threw me the paper towels to start working on the coffee-stained counter. Mello crossed the room to further their discussion of Halloween costumes. In the midst of Windexing my mess away, I watched BB come in. I didn't stop cleaning, but I greeted him with a head nod. He was wearing tight black pants, a loose grey shirt, and a stylish black blazer. My amused eye-roll said _looking good, Birthday._ His devilish smile told me _Always do, Jeevas_.

BB came up behind A and placed his hands over A's eyes. Leaning back into B's arms, a huge smile broke on A's face. B leaned close and whispered, "Guess who?"

"Jared Leto!" A exclaimed.

BB snorted, kissing A's temple. His hands fell away from A's eyes, moving to rest firmly on his shoulders. "You wish."

"I don't have to." A smiled and threaded his fingers through B's. His expression, full of so much love, read: _I've got everything I've ever dreamed of in you._

"Well, I look like Jared Leto when I straighten my hair." Beyond buried his face in A's shoulder, kissing him again. "You've got the best of both worlds."

"No, I need an excuse to jump his bones—yours, well, they're exclusively mine."

"So I'm the winner here."

"When were you guys competing for me?"

"No contest. I got you in the end." BB said, "So I win."

A—

"Now that you've graced us with your presence…" Slipping out from under B's arms, I turned to face The Boy and The Boyfriend. "Listen up, kids."

Matt, giving up on the stain his spilled coffee made, took the seat across from Mello with a monstrous and unflattering yawn. He blearily acknowledged the cuteness of my outfit with a tired yet approving glance. I threw the random heap of wood from Matt's table (were they planning to eat it?) and sat crossed-legged on the table between them. "We're taking you out to breakfast. So hurry up and get dressed."

Mello looked surprised. He leaned back in his chair lazily. "Despite the earliness of the hour, I'm up for anything as long as I don't have to pay for it."

"I think that's his way of graciously thanking us for treating him to breakfast." I announced to everyone.

Mello laughed, humor shinning in his icy eyes, and gave me a playful push. From my position on top of the table, I steadied myself to keep from falling, though smiling all the while.

"We apologize if we ruined your plans," B said. "By the looks of it, before we barged in, you were getting ready to chow down on some spilled coffee and splintered cabinet."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Mello joked.

"That's right," I agreed. "Broken cabinet what I usually go for when I'm tired of the cereal bowl full of hammers and needles."

"Well, I usually saw the cabinet into finer pieces and—"

"You like woodchips too?" B asked.

"Yeah, I make woodchips, put 'em in a bowl, pour some powered sugar on top and call it Frosted Flakes."

"Ahh." Beyond said. "Very organic."

"Yummy." I added. "And natural."

BB playfully shook my shoulders. "Why didn't we think of that?"

I looked at Matt, who hadn't said anything. I took in the vacancy of his eyes and the small frown on his face. He was still trying to formulate thoughts, poor thing. "It appears we've ambushed The Boy too early. Beyond, we should allow our children to wake up a little more before we cart them away. They must fully present to fully enjoy all the glorious breakfast they will be eating soon."

BB stared intently at Matt. "Though it wouldn't be new of me to shower and dress you."

Mello's eyebrows rose.

I cut in before Beyond could intimidate a potential partner of Matt's some more. "He's referencing the time The Boy broke his shoulder trying to combine parkour and segway-driving."

"Niiice." Mello said amusedly.

"And I insisted that I could do it myself." Matt growled.

"The Boy speaks!" BB exclaimed, ruffling his messy red hair. I offered Matt a congratulatory round of applause.

Matt batted B's hand away. "Only to defend myself. You're doing a hell of a job freaking Mello out."

"At least I'm not talking about where we found ourselves on January 1st 2010, the morning after New Year's Eve 2009." B shot back haughtily.

I gasped. "We promised we wouldn't speak of that!"

Matt's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

BB grinned slyly. "Don't tempt me."

"_Guys_." Mello said.

"Yeah, I don't want to talk about that." Matt said. He feebly kicked Beyond. "Never again."

"Right." B offered me his hands, helping me off the table. "We're leaving you two to get dressed." I stumbled into B's arms. I laughed as he gave me a bear hug. Before we made our grand exit, I turned to Matt and Mello, "Have fun. But not too much. We've got places to be, pancakes to eat!"

"Agreed. We've got the Batmobile up and running. We'll be your ladies in waiting." B gave a gracious bow.

"Remember to dress well…" I advised as we moved to the door, arms around each other's shoulders.

"…We won't be caught dead with you in public if you're not looking a zillion percent fabulous." Beyond finished my thought.

Matt and Mello murmured a "cya later" and "okay bye" as we departed. I stopped Beyond right before he made a great lunge towards the exit. "Wait" – I laughed – "I can't—I can't get through the… _the door_!"

A—

Soon enough thereafter, I found myself sitting across from The Boy and The Boyfriend in a greasy booth that appeared to have been previously a canvas, tissue, rag doll, moon bounce, daybed, and playground for many children before me. Against my better judgment, I let Mello and Matt talk me and B into taking them to IHOP instead of Simon Smiley's Pancake House. At first sight of my bitter expression, B acquiesced to compromising on Stargate Dinner next time.

Currently I was staring at the window, trying to imagine what I'd paint on it if I could. I once found a coffee house downtown where they leave paint on a table under the front window and you can pay for a square of their window to paint whatever you want on.

While I was debating whether I would embellish my window painting with glitter or not, BB's voice broke into my thoughts. He was arguing with our waitress and she was storming off. As I focused back into what was happening around me, I noticed that Mello and Matt were engrossed in a conversation about poptarts and leather, that "Mr. Brightside" by the Killers was playing on the restaurant's radio, that I had gotten grey paint on these jeans, that B should probably re-Sharpie the Sharpie tattoos I gave him last week, that we were basically the only ones in IHOP at this hour, and that glitter would probably make my glass-art look cheap.

Locked up inside my head, I had missed the conversation at hand. Before I looked over, my hand was entangled in B's hair, smoothing the long strands at the base of his neck down in an absentminded effort to soothe him. I read his expression. I was gazing at the face of a Beyond Birthday that was Not Pleased.

"Wrong time of day, my seductive ass." Beyond growled to the table. "I'm talking to these infidels and if they don't give me what I want, I swear I'll never forget their name or face!"

I barely caught Matt's mutter, _What is with you people and giving your ass weird adjectives?_

Mello scoffed. "What are you going to do? Write down every wrongdoer's name so you can cause them harm later?"

"Hah." BB cracked a smile. "Indeed."

My hand dropped to his lap so I could hold his hand in mine under the table. "No he wouldn't. He'd never become a hit list-wielding serial killer."

"But our waitress _is _getting a rude comment from me momentarily." B announced.

"I might be a jackass for saying this, but don't cause too much trouble." Matt interjected.

"Not possible." B replied with a devilish grin. "Time to prey on my first victim."

My hand instinctively squeezed Beyond's. "Be right back," he murmured, squeezing my hand back. BB then excused himself to go hunt down the waitress that denied him when he tried to order off the dessert menu.

My eyes followed him. "He really only eats sweets," I explained sheepishly.

We were served our drinks before B returned. But when he did, a triumphant grin adorned his handsome face.

"No one dying today?" I inquired with a quirk of my brow.

"Not yet, anyway." Settling back into the booth seat we shared, B addressed the table. "Now that everything's ordered…Boys," He said, folding his fingers together seriously. "We've got pressing matters to discuss."

I knew where this was going. He's bringing up what we stayed up last night talking—but mostly thinking—about. Something that was left answered, something that only Mello and Matt could explain. Now that we were alone with them, we had to ask.

Mello looked up from sipping his coffee and met B's gaze. "Like what?" B and I exchanged a _Who's going to ask?_ face, but in that momentary pause, Mello set his coffee cup down. "Oh, I see," He said, "I'm 23, a Sagittarius, I've got a steady job, and I don't have a last name, if that's what you want to know." He took a moment to shoot a Matt and small, surprisingly genuine, smile. "Your boy Matty's a good kid and I have honest intentions."

"Although we appreciate you saying that…" I started.

"That's not what we wanted to talk about." BB finished.

It was me who broke the ice. My weapon of choice was a sludge hammer. Like those one in Super Mario Bros that give you a power up (geez I spend waaay too much time Matt. He's making me into a nerd!). I sure as hell needed one to start this conversation. Nevertheless. This needed to be talked out. Here goes. "What happened with Cole last night?" I asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched B's eyes narrow as he studied Matt and Mello's reactions. I continued, "Before you ran into us, you were running away from him. We don't want to appear like we're being nosy or annoying or anything, we're just concerned." I looked Matt square in the face as I said, "We don't want Cole messing with you again."

"Actually, can I ask you about that too?" Mello interrupted, turning to Matt. "What exactly happened between you and this dude?" He paused. "Excuse me for not coming to you privately about this." He turned away. "You'll learn that I have no tact" – Mello glanced at me and BB as he interjected this anecdote – "But…I just want to understand."

Answering Mello, Matt gave a dismissive hand gesture. "Don't worry about it, A and Beyond are family." Now only addressing me and B, Matt said, "I'm fine going over what happened with Cole, let's just give Mello some back story before we" – he gestured to Mello – "explain what happened at the Paper Lantern last night."

"Only if you're okay with it." I said gently.

Matt nodded. "I'm fine." He sighed. "Okay, here goes. Cole and I were in a pretty serious relationship for about two years. For that part of my life, he was everything to me. Obviously it ended badly and he's got all sorts of problems and everything between us is all messed up. Since we split, he's been lashing out at me in any way he can. That's how we keep running into him." Matt pinched the bridge of his noise. As he spoke, he avoided eye contact with all of us. Somehow this made what he was saying more heartfelt because he was revealing his vulnerability. "I wish it hadn't ended like that…it sucks 'cause he once thought I was different, that I was going to be the end of all his heartbreak, that I was the love of his life. But, somewhere in the middle of our relationship, I started to realize I couldn't live up to what he thought of me. I kept disappointing him."

Matt stirred his coffee with his finger. "He couldn't stand to be apart from me. He got the same job as me just to be near me all the time. I saw him every second of everyday. I started to grow tired of him and of myself when I was around him. He tried everything in his power to keep Beyond and I apart because he was always weirdly jealous of how close we are." Matt's goggle-clad eyes peered up and took in BB's rueful smile. I know Beyond was saying, _Nothing could keep us apart, kid. We're a matched set. We're his and her towels!_

"He wouldn't let me hang out with A and B, but he could do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted." Matt laughed tonelessly. "He was like that. Throughout it all, he convinced me that I was the one that was wrong. Especially in the end. He had me believing that it was my fault." Matt smiled sadly. "In his mind, to this day, he doesn't see what he's done wrong. And I've tried talking to him. If anything, it makes it worse."

Matt sighed again. "I ended it because I couldn't be controlled by him any more. He was making me something I didn't want to be. He was too high-strung and I was too laidback to care as much as he wanted me to. We sort of…compromised ourselves to be with each other because we were so different. But in that compromise, we both lost who we were. And, in the end, I didn't want to be with someone who didn't accept me for who I was. Who tried to change me, who messed up my entire way of thinking and made me question, doubt, and over-think everything I did and everything he did.

"We…just…didn't work out. The only thing that kept us together was the fact that I was scared to end it with him. I was scared out of my mind to confront him. He had this power, this power over me where he could twist anything I did or said to make it look like I was wrong and he hadn't done anything to upset me at all. So I looked like the crazy one—always. But I built up the courage to end it. I had had enough. But, the saddest part is that, even today, I'm still paying for what I did. Even if it was right."

Matt looked up, catching each of us in the eye. He took a deep breath and released all turbulent feelings about his history with Cole. You could tell that he was at peace with a lot of it. I'm so proud of all his progress, honestly. He's never going to forgot nor is he not going to have some sort of feelings for Cole, but he's been managing it with so much courage and strength.

"I had no idea things between you and Cole were so fucked up." Mello said, eyes gentle and full of concern. "I figured that he was pretty psycho" - all three of us hummed in agreement – "But if I'd have known all this, I wouldn't've left him at the club." Mello touched Matt's hand gently. "You have my word, I'll always protect you."

Matt thanked Mello with a reserved, though gracious, smile. When Mello covered Matt's hand with his own, Matt's face tinged bright red. It made me want to smirk like a badass. They_ so_ had major feelings for each other! It was cute to watch their friendship and romance unfold, even if it was unfolding in small, steady pieces. There was no mistaking that something endearing and deeply genuine lay underneath the surface of both men sitting across from me. Mello and Matt had something sexy and playful, yet respectful and passionate at the same time.

Beyond gave me a dazzling grin. He was thinking the same thing as me. I could tell. This was really real. BB slipped his arm around me and drew me close.

Mello turned to address the table. "While we're having a soap opera moment, I'll take this moment to say _thank you_." We all laughed, but Mello continued, looking at me and B. "Thank you for this breakfast of champions. You really know how to treat a cheapskate like me." He faced Matt, a cocky smile filling up his face. "Thank you for letting me prey on you at the bar. Thank you for making me look like a good dancer" – Everyone laughed at this – "Thank you for dancing on my couch with me…well, until you fell off." – Another laugh – "Thank you for making me laugh my ass off during _Moulin Rouge_. Thank you for hauling my ass to the YMCA, and thank you for helping me throw confetti into the water because you couldn't drive to the ocean to see the moon reflect on the water—"

B arched an eyebrow. "Just what have you kids been up to?"

Mello continued unfazed. "And, finally, thank you taking me The Paper Lantern. Which brings us unfortunately to explaining what happened at The Paper Crane last night."

"Yeah," Matt said, still beaming and blushing from Mello's list of thank-yous. "It's kind of a funny story. Mello and I were at the Paper Lantern, having a nice time and all, but then Cole came in. He spotted us immediately but tried to make it seem like he was busy ignoring us."

"I think he was with some girl." Mello added.

"Oh yeah," Matt agreed. "I didn't get a good look at her. But I wasn't paying attention to them, anyway. I was having too much fun drawing on those paper menus they make for the kids to color on. We got the waitress to give us some."

Mello jabbed an accusing thumb in Matt's direction. "He finds it funny when I draw cats. I don't get it!"

"That's…because…they all come out…crossed-eyed!" Matt chocked out between bursts of laughter.

"You dorks." I said approvingly.

"So you invited Cole over to color with you and when he stole all your crayons, you ran away?" B questioned.

Right. Focus.

"No," Mello replied. "He came over and slid into the booth right next to me. He tried to be buddy-buddy with Matt, which pissed him off. It pissed me off too."

"So I told him," Matt said, "That if he kept it up, I'd fight him. He didn't stop insulting me and being obnoxious and embarrassing me, so I told him to do the right thing and just leave with whatever dignity he could."

"He wouldn't have any of that, the rat bastard, so he started shit with Matt. Punched him in the jaw, in the middle of the restaurant. I tried to break it up. People were screaming and gathering fast. I got them both outside and tried to reason with them. Soon they broke out into a fight again. The manager came out and told them he was on the phone with the cops."

Matt said, "Then I remember you shouting something, 'If the cops are coming, we can't stay!' right after we heard a siren."

"Me and feds don't mix." Mello said frankly. "I usually don't _run _from them. But I don't involve myself with them either. I'm no criminal or anything," He clarified. "If that's what you're thinking."

"So, that's why we were running when we ran into you." Matt concluded.

"Then what do you do for a living?" I found myself asking Mello.

"I'm a detective." He answered without hesitation. "That sounds hypocritical, but I do my own thing. I don't work with cops. Usually. But if I need their help, I'll ask for it."

"So you don't have any partner or anything?"

"I…sort of have a partner. I have a rival. And we work together only when the case requires both of our expert skills, insurmountable powers of reasoning, and genius in deduction. We're both the best at what we do. We're the top two. He's number one and I'm, tragically, second."

"I work at GameStop." Matt said.

"When I'm not playing in old music shops and at cafes, you'll find me staking books and waving late fees at the library." I announced.

"Since we're going around, I'm going to college to become a math teacher. I rejected a life of studying crime." B finished.

"My favorite color is black," Mello said.

"Mine is blue."

"I like silver!"

"Red, obviously."

We went around like that, naming random things about ourselves until our food came. Then me and B tried to make a candy-coated ginger bread house out of his candy-coated pancakes while Matt and Mello were engaged in a mini food fight. Which had began, incidentally, when Mello smeared whip cream on Matt's face…and then proceeded to lick it off. Slowly.

With its decent food, hit music, greasy booths, and soap opera-esque moments, breakfast at IHOP proved to be a memorable event for us four. Also, our waitress benefited greatly because BB and I, in a moment of charity, tried to give her helpful tips in improving her complexion through moisturizer…but Matt and Mello pulled us away before we could give her a list of affordable and effective products. Ah well.

Matt—

Returning from IHOP, I noticed a plastic bag that wasn't on my counter before. I slid on my socks across the kitchen to root through its contents thinking, _What in all of the worlds of the Star Wars galaxy?_

Without Mello, my apartment seemed so empty. Granted, he was tall and skinny and didn't take up much room. But it was really lacking his presence, which filled up and reshaped the entire atmosphere.

I looked through the bag. Ahhh. I faintly remember me and Mello bringing the groceries in last night when A and B ran off to have their fake make-up sex. We set theirs outside their door, and I noticed this morning that theirs were gone. So this must be my bag.

Since Mello was gone and there was noting else better to do, I started putting my groceries away. Taking one item out of the bag at a time, I carefully put everything where it should go. It was when I took out the last item that I found myself surprised at what I'd found. Under the glow of the late morning sun that illuminated my crappy kitchen, I held out a box of Brown Sugar Cinnamon Poptarts—my favorite. Funny thing is, I don't remember buying them. I flipped the box over. On the other side, a note was attached that read:

_Here are your Poptarts. I crossed my heart, after all._

Exactly the same as the blocky, all-capital letters of the note on my coffee pot, I recognized the handwriting as Mello's.

My heart burst into fire. You gotta keep a man that buys you your favorite Poptarts at the grocery store. Before I thought about it, my phone was in my palm and I was looking for Mello's number.

I found his number listed under "REMEMBER NEVER TO FORGET THIS NUMBER." Ha. I remember when he entered that. It was in the parking lot before I entered the apartment and found the plastic bag. He reached into my back pocket for my phone and, smirking, entered his digits. And when he was done, we made our parting. He left me with a soft and sweet kiss that, when it was over, had me intensely craving more. Ughh, he made me crazy!

I watched him get in his car with an ache in my chest that I swore to myself was not heartburn from too much pancake.

Now, I was holding my breath as I waited for him to answer.

He picked up immediately.

"Mello?"

"Yes?"

"I miss you."

"I haven't been gone for eight minutes."

"Did you go far?"

"Matt," Mello said.

"Yeah?"

"I never left the parking lot."


	7. 11:58 PM

11:58 PM

**Dear Eric, **

**Although I spent most of my life with you, I don't remember much of it. Maybe my memories were stained by our anticlimactic and drastic end. Because I walked away from our relationship with confusion, pain, shame, loss…to name a few of the feelings swimming around in my head. For a long time, I was drowning in all those thoughts of you. **

**From when we were young, I remember what most kids remember. Days we celebrated and days we spent doing nothing. We took our days one at a time. Making forts out of sheets, telling ghost stories after dark, stealing from the kitchen, playing in the snow, hanging out with the other boys, skipping class, fighting in the backyard with lightsabors, dreaming of running away, wishing for a place to call home, always practicing our music. It kept us together and yet so apart. Back then we thought making it big would be so much better than wasting away in an orphanage with only each other as family. Now it all seems stupid. **

**When we started getting our big break, I really believed everything would work out. You were so excited and so was I. Both of us were incredibly naïve. I was writing songs and I was writing them for you. But you didn't know this, of course. Not until the end. And, unfortunately, it would be something that would break us. I thought the world of you then. But that was then. **

**I know now how cheap you are. I know now that you're just a sellout. I know now that you never really cared about what I wrote, you only cared about what it got you. Money, girls, fame. I know now that you'd probably been using me for years because I chose to think the best of you instead of seeing you for what you really are. I know now that you probably never truly cared about me, only yourself. I know now that you're not half as good now than you were with me. **

**As much as I hate to admit it, it's true. We did great things together. But that greatness came with such disappoint, fallout, depression and regret. Everything that you did somehow contributed to my suicide. Because I had to kill what you had made me. I had to kill the part inside of me that would be forever linked to you. And you saw it – you knew that I couldn't take all the pressure. The pressure of always being watched, the pressure of performing, the pressure writing better songs than the last, the pressure of keeping all of your secrets, the pressure of being your best friend. **

**I remember that after a while, I didn't want to live with anymore secrets. Especially the ones we kept for each other. I never told anyone, you know. I never told anyone what you did to get our first manager fired. I never told anyone how you got Nolan, our second drummer, to quit the band. I never told anyone that I'd been helping you hide your addiction. I never told anyone about Berlin. I never told anyone why I drove you to the hospital. I never told anyone why you left me on the side of the road. I never told anyone what you'd say about your girlfriends. I never told anyone that you didn't actually love any one of them. I never told anyone what happened when you were drunk and alone with me on the night I wish I could take back. **

**I never told anyone that everyday you were breaking my heart. **

**When I was thinking about quitting everything – my life, the band, you – I only remember a few things. I remember when Nolan told me that I was the most important member of the band. That you were just a pretty face. That I could be something without you. **

**And I remember that you told me we were going to stick it out with each other until the end, no matter how stupid I could be. We made a promise, after all. **

**Too bad I never kept any of my promises. **

**I don't remember much. Out of it, I only really remember the bad stuff. That stuff that built up inside of me and around me that drove me to a suicide of myself and later led me to walk away from everything I had ever dreamed of. Of everything I remember, I wish I could just forget it all. **

**Your friend, **

**A **

_Would you like send this message?_ _Yes/__**No**_

_Are you sure? **Yes**/No_

_Message discarded. _

A—

The clock beside my laptop read 11:58 PM. I shut it off, whipping at the tears that hadn't ceased streaming down my face since I deleted my latest message to Eric. I simply wouldn't let myself become overwhelmed with the sobs that burned in my throat. Even after all this time, it still hurts to remember him. I thought I was stronger. I knew I was. Rather than curling into a ball and letting the pain eat me alive, I got up and treaded to my piano. It would be a piano cover of Linkin Park's "In the End" that would ease my mind tonight.

I took a deep breath as I started playing. I knew I could get through this, even if a few teardrops splashed the black and white keys. I couldn't sing the words, not tonight. My voice would scratch and break. My hands were already shaking as I tried to suppress more sobs. I powered through it, thinking of the words as I played: _…it doesn't even matter how hard you try…I kept everything inside and even though I tried…it all fell apart…I had to fall, to loose it all…but in the end, it doesn't even matter…_

As my fingers danced over the keys, I kept my eyes closed, trying to shut out all the hurt feelings that were welling up inside of me. Everyday since I left the band and Eric, I've written a message that I've never sent. Normally I don't include specific events. I should know better, because when I mention one a flood of painful memories comes back to me. From that part of my life, I can handle some things better than others. Tonight I'm not so lucky.

It was a little while before I saw BB sleepily standing in the door of our bedroom. "Beautiful." B came to the piano to stand behind me. "And heartbreaking."

"I didn't mean to wake you up…" I said quietly.

"Never worry about something silly like that." B rested his head on the top of mine. His arms circled my waist, holding me softly. "What's got you up?"

"Thinking too much, I guess." I played through the bridge, which made my heart ache. _I've put my trust in you, pushed as far as I can go…_

"Mmm," B murmured. "Anything I can help you sort though?"

"I'm getting it all out now."

BB lowered himself to the piano bench. "As always, I'm enamored with your song choice."

"Heard it on the radio earlier today. It's been stuck in my head all day," I told him, which wasn't exactly a lie. I _had_ heard it this morning. But it wasn't the reason I was playing it now. I felt the coils of tension ease up in my stomach. Forcing myself to think only of the notes, I could keep my mind off dwelling on the memories that still upset me. Music would always be an outlet for me. Whatever stage of life I was in. I wrote songs to express the feelings I couldn't find words for. Be it lazy nostalgia, boundless joy, abstract thoughts or lingering heartbreak. Sometimes I thought I was better at communicating through music. Sometimes my thoughts strayed into existing song lyrics. Sometimes instruments captured feelings better than words.

When I finished, I turned to BB. He was clapping for me. "Thank you," I said. _For staying up with me_, I thought but didn't say. I leaned my head on his shoulder and he folded his arms around me again. "Come to bed," he whispered. "It's calling for you…"

"I'm wide awake," I nestled into him further. "Not to quote Katy Perry or anything."

He chuckled. "I'll make you chamomile tea and rub your back until you're sleepy."

"Hold me a little while longer—you're warm and toasty."

"Sure thing," he murmured.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, talking about nothing but sharing everything, curled up together on my piano bench. Until BB kissed my temple and stood up. "Let me get that tea."

I yawned a little. "Mmkay. Are you going to serve me tea with your British accent?"

"If yaa'd like," BB moved around in the kitchen, getting out the mugs and water and teabags. "Maybe not. That sounded a little Australian."

"I've got something I could play for you," I offered when he reentered the living room. "…if you want."

"Yes please!" BB clapped his hands excitedly and climbed onto the couch. His enthusiasm made me want to smile. I knew what I wanted to sing for him. I got out my acoustic guitar and sat on my cello case, which took up most of the living room floor, across from BB.

I started playing and, slowly and smoothly, sang the words: _Look at the stars, look how they shine for you / And everything you do… _

I thought about everything that Beyond did for me. I thought about how I moved in next store confused, broken, and alone. I thought about how we met at the mailbox—how I walked away from it knowing my world had changed. I thought about how he invented dorky, neighborly excuses to come to see me after that. I thought about how he saw me one night when I was playing at the café down the street. I thought about how he stayed after the show, bought me dinner, and we talked into the early hours of the morning. I thought out how much time he'd spend at the library in order to see me. I thought about the night he carried me home after I'd gotten too drunk and passed out at his bar.

…_(ohhh) Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones…_

I thought about how he became my best friend—how he earned my trust, built up my confidence, and gave me something to believe in. I thought about how he'd stay up with me when I cried about Eric. I thought about how if I brought it up right now, he'd stay up with me and listen to me talk about it. I thought about how he got to know me, how he accepts and understands me. I thought about how he helped me face the demons that followed me when I left the public eye. I thought about how he helped me finally find a home, in him and in me. I thought about how deeply he loved me, and how he taught me to love me.

…_Turn in to something beautiful…_

If my life was a blank sheet of paper, BB gave me his favorite pen so that I could write in everything I'd been missing since I left my life as a rising rockstar.

…_Do you know? You know I love you so…_

The microwave beeped, startling me out my memory reel. "Tea's ready," he announced. "But don't stop."

Thankfully I was going into the instrumental. "Don't go crazy with the sugar." I teased him. "I don't want to be induced into the hospital for a sugar-coma."

"I don't think those people took us seriously when you tried to induce _me _into the hospital after I had 25 sugar cubes."

I was finishing when BB returned with a steaming cup of chamomile. "And what you just sang has become one of my new favorite songs, by the way," he informed me.

"It was 'Yellow' by Coldplay." I sipped some tea. "And thank you."

But B didn't sit down with me. Instead he went back into the kitchen. "When you're done, come to bed with me." He passed back through the living room with the toaster under his arm.

I snorted some tea as I watched him pass. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to make your side of the bed toasty for you," he announced.

I stood and followed him to our room. "How?!"

BB turned swiftly, blocking the door. "Leave this to me."

"You evil mastermind," I accused half-heartedly. "That better not be a fire hazard!" I called over my shoulder as I retreated back into the living room. BB shut the door behind me. With my bed hopefully not being burned to ash and my boyfriend hopefully not electrocuted, I resigned to putting my guitar away, sliding the piano bench back under the piano, and somehow wrestling the cello case back into the closet.

With my instruments away, I fell back into the couch and finished my tea. "Done yet?" I called after a little while.

"Almost!"

I crept to our bedroom door, leaned in, and put my ear against it. But the door caved it as it opened, sending me sprawling out on the floor inside my room. From my position at his feet, I looked up at BB. He crossed his arms, saying, "You breathe so loudly I could've shot you in the dark."

Although I appreciated the Haldir of Lorien reference, I still was curious as to what Beyond was doing with my bed and a toaster. All I saw was the toaster plugged into the wall behind the nightstand, the cord long enough to reach my side of the bed. It was turned on and was face down between the sheets. "Really? That's it?" I asked incredulously. "You just turned the toaster and tucked it into the spot where I sleep?"

"Magic tricks are one part timing, one part presentation, and one part _illusion_."

I laughed. "You sure had me fooled." I approached the bed. "It is warm? Or is it burning the sheets? I mean, does the toast heat up without pieces of bread in it? Is it turned on?"

"See for yourself."

Moving the toaster, I sprawled out over the warm spot B had made for me. It faintly smelled like crispy bread. "Awww, it is toasty~!"

"My work here is done," B came close and snuggled into my side. As promised, he started rubbing my back in small circles with the heel of his hand. This always had a soothing effect on me, and it worked whenever I was upset or worried. I nestled into my pillow and pulled up the sheets and tucked them under my chin.

Soon, I felt myself fading. As I closed my eyes, I thought about how B made me complete.

_You know I love you so…_

The next day I waited in the parking lot for Matt. I was leaning against his car, sipping a travel mug full of green apple teasoda. I checked my watch. No, he wasn't running late but I did need him to show up soon. Too much time had passed for me to be able to walk instead and still make it. I should've knocked on his door before I left to possibly wake him up and/or possibly tell him he was running late. In either case, he would've known that _I _was ready. Ah hell. He takes an insane amount of time to get down here whatever I do. Luckily within the next few moments Matt traipsed out the apartment complex, cigarette between his lips, looking sleepy as hell.

I raised an eyebrow as he approached. "Someone's had a busy weekend," I said, a smile playing on my lips. "Where's The Boyfriend? I expected to see him following in tow."

"Huh?" It took Matt a moment to remember that I was referring to Mello. Again it was clear that he's not a morning person. "Oh yeah." He opened his car door and slid in. He put out his cigarette in the car ashtray. "He, uh…went back to his place."

I entered the car after him. "When I checked the mail yesterday at around 3, I saw his car in the parking lot. So he stayed after breakfast after all? B and I had a bet."

Matt put his key into ignition. "Well, yeah…what about it?"

"Yay, I win!" I exclaimed."Tell me _everything._"

"Nooo," Matt whined. "Too early for story time."

"Drink this." I handed him my other travel mug. "Then talk."

He gratefully accepted the coffee. "Ahhh, you're the _best_."

"I know. I'll give you two minutes to wake up. So hurry up and inhale that caffeine, mister!"

Matt nodded slowly, starting the car and pulling out the parking lot.

I sat back in my seat while Matt took a couple big gulps of coffee. "He couldn't spend another night because he had work today. Like me," he said finally.

"Wait," I sprang to the edge of my seat, which probably wasn't smart because we were in a moving car. "He's spent the night more than once? Did I missing something? Matt!" I almost squealed. "_Matt_!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I see the diabolical glint in your eyes. Before you start picking out wedding songs and buying onesies for our children, let me back up."

I zipped my lips and threw away the key, though it was difficult to surrender my right to speak.

"Is this station okay?" Matt asked when he turned on the radio.

"Yeah it's fine." I adjusted the volume—Matt liked to blast that shit. "Quit stalling!"

"_Well_," He took another sip of coffee. "Now that I can process coherent thoughts…"

Matt then launched into an epic retelling of his entire meeting of Mello—crazy club dancing, _Moulin Rouge_-watching, confetti pool and all. And after he was done recounting his Friday night and Saturday morning in hazy, incomplete details, I found myself with really only one question. "So what you're telling me is that, through all this, _nothing_ of the X-rated variety happened?"

"Nope."

"Even after you got drunk with him?"

"Nope."

"Even after you went back to his place and drank even more?"

"Nope."

"Even after your face-eating secession on his kitchen floor?"

"Nope."

"Even after you got in bed with him?"

Matt pressed his lips firmly together. It was then when I knew I wasn't going to get anything useful from him.

I pursed my lips. "Damn. I can't Jedi mind-trick you like B can. If he were here, you'd be spilling all the dirty little secrets of your wild drunken tirade."

"Exactly. B would find a way to ask questions and get all the perverted answers. You're the mushy, sentimental, sensitive one." He took his eyes off the road to glance at me. "That's a compliment."

"Oh yeah?" I snorted. It was totally true—I _was_ the mushy, sentimental, sensitive one. "Well. Since it's my duty I'll ask you the cheesy, romantic questions…"

Matt sat up in his seat. "Okay, I'm ready."

"So. Do you like Mello?"

"Y-Yes?"

I gasped in horror. "Was that hesitation?"

"No! That was a tough question, right off the bat. I was expecting 'do you get butterflies every time you see him' or 'do you find yourself staring at his ass because its so damn fine' kind of question."

"What are we, a gaggle of girls that spend all night giving each other makeovers, watching _Grey's Anatomy _reruns, eating lukewarm singapore mei fun, and learning the dance moves to 'As Love as You Love Me' just so we'd have an excuse to spam-play it?"

Matt narrowed his eyes. "No, but that sounds fun."

"We have plans for the weekend now. Awesome." I said. "Do you want to answer the question?"

"I…don't know. I guess I haven't really thought about it. It all happened fast. I mean, we met under weird circumstances, right? Like, we have this night full of crazy, drunken adventures. Wake up at the YMCA at nighttime—wait, we were there the whole day. It should've been open during the day when we were sleeping…?" Matt thought hard about it. Finally, he resolved to saying, "Huh. That actually doesn't make sense."

_Focus, Matt, focus!_ I wanted to shout. "Not important," I resigned to saying.

"Yeah, sorry. Ran into you guys, crashed at my place. Woke up for breakfast, then we just hung out." Matt frowned thoughtfully. "…The only sort-of date we've had so far was The Paper Crane but Cole fucked that up. Mello and I, we've only known each other for, what? Three or four days? And a lot of it's just goofing around. But, I mean, that's what we do. We have a lot of fun together. And it's, like, easy and comfortable."

"So you're establishing a friendship? I always say…"

" 'The strongest and most squee-worthy relationships evolve from friendships,'" Matt finished for me.

"Yep, I own that saying."

"No, I'm pretty sure Hallmark or ABC family made that up."

"Not entirely!" I defended.

Matt grinned. "Except the 'squee-worthy' part. That's yours."

I smiled back. "That's 100 percent correct. I copyrighted that shit."

Matt paused, his thoughts straying back to Mello. "I mean, he's easy to talk to. And I feel like I can talk to him about anything."

Oh, right. We were discussing Matt and Mello's current relationship stasis. Important, grown-up stuff. Right. "There's some level of trust. Good, good." I answered.

"When I'm with him, there's no bullshit. I don't feel like I have to impress him, constantly entertain him, or always have my guard up. I don't have to be anything other than just myself. I'm just…me. As far as I can tell, he's interested in me and there's just no bullshit. He's real and genuine. I love that. Everything just feels _right._ I don't know if that feeling is supposed to happen, you know, so soon in a relationship. But it's there." Matt let out a deep breath, almost like he was relieved. "The main thing is, I just have a great time when I'm with him. Simple as that."

"Looks like things are going great," I clapped my hands. "Oh, goodie!"

Matt's brow rose. "You seriously didn't say that, did you?"

"Don't judge me," I mock-pouted. "It's not nice."

Matt snorted, keeping his eyes on the road.

I let him enjoy the radio a little before I asked more questions. Some lovely indie songs played along with a few fun emo-pop hits, closing off with a dash of experimental art-rock that left me wanting more. I took mental notes to remember the lyrics so I could look them up later. I was looking for something new to cover in preparation for the French place I was playing later in the week. "So what happened yesterday, then? I'm dying to know."

"What do you want to know?"

"_Everything_."

"Um, alright here goes. At first he was going to go home and recover from, you know, everything. But when I got home, I was kinda of sad without him," Matt admitted. "But before you start assuming that my life is one of those hormonal trash teenage romance novels where they're like, 'Ohmigod, I bear the thought of being without you!'" – Matt adopted a high-pitched teenage-schoolgirl whine, which had me bust up laughing – "It wasn't like I was desperate and lonely without him, it was just a weird feeling to spend every minute of the last few days with him, get used to him being around, and then have him gone.

"And it wasn't like separation anxiety or some other crazy shit but, anyway, I called him and was like, 'Come back I miss you!' And he was like, 'I miss you too I never left the parking lot,' which was cute. So he came back upstairs. We just hung out. You know, had lunch, talked, watched a little TV – ooh, and I got him to play me in Call of Duty!"

I adopted a knowing look. "Tricked him is more like it."

Matt smile was smug. "Hell to the yeah."

"When are you going to see him again?" I asked.

Matt leaned forward in the driver's seat, trying to spy for the library up ahead. "We haven't really talked about it. I'm probably going to see if he can do something later this week."

My eyebrows shot up. "Really? _That _long without The Boyfriend? Are you sure you can handle it?"

Matt's face went a bright red. "Stop calling Mello that." He pulled up at the library. "It's not… official."

"_Yet._" I assured him.

"Yet," Matt ventured.

"Okay, see you dearie!" I ruffled his adorably unkempt red hair. "Have a good day; make good choices!"

"See you." Matt called when I was out of the car. "Thanks for the coffee!"

I waved over my shoulder as I made my way up the front stairs.

After another uneventful morning at the library, when afternoon rolled around, I decided to play a couple tricks on Mikami. At first it was pretty amateur, for I informed my OCD coworker that he had missed looping his belt through one of the belt loops in the back of his pants. At first he vehemently denied my outlandish observation, so I walked away saying, "Okay, if you don't think so…"

In the next aisle over, I watched over the books on the shelf eyelevel to me as Mikami's hands flew to his belt to check for the mistake. Although his expression remained composed, his eyes adopted a frantic _need_ to correct the deviation in routine. My snicker could be heard for the other side of the book case. "Just kidding~! I just wanted to see that alarmed look on your face!"

If it wasn't for the thick shelves of books between us, I could've sworn I felt the red-hot glare of my uptight coworker.

Still tricking Mikami on an amateur level, I later pointed out to him that it looked like the far wall was painted a darker shade of blue than the others. Leaning forward in his seat, he adjusted his glasses. "Is it different? I can't tell from this far away…"

"Yeah," I pointed. "Look, that whole wall above the non-fiction section. The paint doesn't even look like the same shade. Doesn't it look slightly darker? Eh, whatever." Then I changed the subject. "So. How was your day off?"

Instead of looking at me, Mikami's eyes slid sideways at look back at the wall. "Satisfactory."

"Mine was good too. Yesterday I played at a little Austrian bistro. Nice place. Really fancy. I've never been there before. I dressed up a little because it's so fancy, but still incorporated a little bit of my own style, you know? People brought their own wine—I thought that was cool. The cheesecake looked really good. I was really tempted to order some. I hear it's really yummy and especially delicious there. I might consider eating there sometime. I mean, I don't know if its protocol to eat at the place that pays you to play some music for it's guests…? Anyway, everyone liked my acoustic cover of 'Somebody That I Used to Know.' It went well. Good people. Lots of clapping, which was awesome."

Instead of maintaining eye-contact, occasionally Mikami's eyes would stray to the back wall. I kept prattling on. For effect. "Since it was an Austrian bistro, I thought about singing a song in German. You know, like Bosse's '3 Millionen.' Maybe you know it? Maybe…not. I've got a CD that's got a lot of German easy-listening songs. It's pretty chill. I could lend it to you sometime, if you want. It's up to you. I mean, I don't really know what kind of music you're into..."

But Mikami was distracted. It was sweet and satisfying to know that he hadn't heard a word of our one-sided conversation, for he was too irked by the idea that the walls could be two different shades of blue.

"What are you looking at?" I innocently looked over my shoulder. "Oh, is it the wall? Don't be silly. It's not painted a darker shade of blue. I was just messin' with you."

If staring at me with slightly narrowed eyes and a threatening downward tug at the corners of his mouth was Mikami's glowering stank-face, then I was getting it full on and aggressively. If I had taken him more seriously, this lackluster scowl would've withered me on the spot. "Just out of curiosity, Mikami, what would you have done _if _the walls were painted differently?" I found my self asking.

"I would've stayed overnight and repainted all the walls so they were the same color," Mikami informed me.

After that, I resigned from playing simple pranks on Mikami (if you could even call them pranks). Instead I'd spend the rest of the afternoon cooking up a more sinister plan to unhinge his calm countenance. Well, maybe I should consult BB tonight over dinner. He was better with coming up with brilliantly evil schemes after all.

I flopped back into my chair at the front desk next to Mikami. "So you're day off was satisfactory, huh?"

His fingers didn't stop their fluttering over the keyboard keys. "Yes, I believe I mentioned it before."

"True. I'm asking for more details, that's all. I'm interested in your answer."

"But there's nothing of significance to you to tell."

"Humor me, Mikami."

My suited and serious coworker acquiesced to my request. "Although I don't think you'd find it particularly interesting, I spent yesterday writing and researching more for the mock trial I've got in three weeks. I plan on finishing it tonight. Then I will practice it until it is perfectly crushing and irrefutable for the defense attorney. My reasoning must be thorough, clear, and precise. My goal is to have a unanimous vote from the jury."

"Well, you might not need it, but good luck." I was seriously impressed if not a little alarmed by his lofty and somewhat sinister goals. "Knock 'em dead, my friend."

An elderly woman approached the desk. I stood and accepted the book and library card from her. "It's still sunny outside, right?" I asked in an attempt to strike up conversation with her.

"It's raining, dearie." She told me, looking a little worried. "You better have some rain gear. Oh, I hope you do. I wouldn't want your precious head getting wet. Especially that…striking haircut of yours."

I blushed, a hand flying to my hair self-consciously. "Well, before I left home this morning my boyfriend told me it might rain. So he made sure I left with a raincoat and, of course, my froggy umbrella."

"Oh." Her eyes widened in pleasant surprise, probably at my mention to having a _boy_friend. "Well, aren't you just adorable."

I beamed at her. "You're lovely. Thank you."

"You have yourself a peachy day." Before she turned to go, she leaned in to whisper, "And be sure to tell your smartly-dressed friend here it wouldn't hurt to smile a little, eh?"

"I will." I promised, handing her the book that she was checking out. "It's due the fifteenth. Have a nice day!"

When she left, I took my seat beside Mikami. "Smile, would ya?" I told him. "You upset the elderly."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Mikami murmured.

"That you smiled?" I asked, confused. "Or upset old people?"

"Both," he answered frankly.

I frowned. "Now that's just sad."

Mikami's eyes didn't leave the computer screen. "I apologize if I upset you too."

"Since your eyes are unhealthily glued to that screen, and you'll probably suffer from eye damage later in life, I'm gonna make the rounds this time," I announced.

Mikami bowed his head, acknowledging that I'd spoken though I'm sure he deflected my comment for rather concentrating on his work.

So I took another stack of returned books and started on returning to them to their proper places in the library's massive maze of book-filled bookcases. Purposefully I hid from Mikami, so I could slip my iPod earphones on. I lost myself in 65daysofstatic's "Come To Me (ft. Robert Smith)" for a while, so much so that I almost didn't hear the approaching footsteps as someone stopped next to me.

"Hey," I heard that person say beside me. I paused my iPod, simultaneously glancing over my shoulder at the speaker of aforementioned greeting. With me in the aisle there stood a girl, maybe my age, dressed in floor-length dress which made me want to snarl (was _never _a fan of those). Her choppy blond bangs fell into her eyes and she flicked them to the side as she eyed me up curiously. "I really hope this doesn't sound creepy," she said. "But…you really look like one of the guys from the band Adamant Afterthought. You know them? I-I was just wondering, if, maybe—"

"I get that a lot," I said as nonchalantly as possible.

Taken aback and probably a little embarrassed, her face flushed. "Oh, it's just…"

"Don't worry about it though," I added with small, slightly nervous smile. "It happens to all of us."

"I didn't mean to assume or anything," she said. "It's just…you even sound like him. A little." Her green eyes flicked down, completing a double-take of me.

I tried to return to the task at hand—stacking books. Suddenly the books in my arms felt heavier. The sound of my heartbeat seemed louder. I struggled to keep my composure. Avoiding her penetrating gaze, I searched for the right place to put the returned books back. "How weird, right?" I managed.

"I mean, it's been…what, like, three or four years since he quit and fell off the face of the earth? So he's gotta be, like, twenty-something by now." She paused and her eyes got far away. I felt my heart lurch into my throat in the silence. I knew it was stupid to think she could hear my erratic heartbeat, but I thought it anyway. "God, they really lost something when he quit, you know? Don't get me wrong, they came out with a few good songs after him, but it wasn't like the old stuff. There were a lot of rumors, but I'm still not really sure why he quit."

"Well," I kept my voice steady. "I'm very flattered. But that's not me." _I'm not him! You've got the wrong guy! Stop asking questions and stop looking at me like you know I'm lying!_ I wanted to shout. It took all my powers of concentration to fight the urge to run.

"It's a shame." She took a step back, looking at me thoughtfully. "How cool would've of been to actually run into the greatest songwriter of our time?" She turned to go. She was half-way down the aisle when she faced me again. I held her gaze against my will. "I would've loved to talk to him about his songs. They were so honest and captivating. Something or _someone_ was haunting him in the most beautiful and unbearable way. I've always wanted to ask him who he wrote them for." Her eyes softened. "I have a feeling that he wrote them for—"

My tone was devoid of enthusiasm. "Yeah. That'd be awesome. To meet him, I mean."

"Totally. Well, sorry for…taking up your time." She moved to leave again. "I'm usually not this stalkerish. Promise." She was almost out of my sight when she called to me one last time. "Oh, hey." She said, leaning around the corner of the bookcase. "You've stacked the last couple books upside down. Just so you know."

Then she disappeared.

I don't remember smiling at her last remark.

_God, could I haven been more obvious?_ was my first thought. Then I reconsidered. No, I had controlled myself. She must've had it all figured out before she came to talk to me. Where do these all-knowing fans come from? She knew her stuff, damn it, and that scared the hell out of me. Is it really that easy to pick me out of a crowd? To approach me at work, knowing full well who I am—or was?

I can't live every second of my life with my guard up. _Not again. Please. Not again._ It took so much out me—so much time, energy, and trust. Still. After all the time I spent in the public eye, I should be better about being aware. Even now. That paranoia doesn't exactly leave a person easily. Even it's been four years since. It was just that this particular encounter was so unexpected. Especially in a place that I consider safe-the library. I know my appearance has changed since I left Adamant Afterthought. I'm older and taller, with wayward black-and-white hair and goofy (and totally cool!) hipster glasses. The naïve, blonde hair, browed-eyed, guitar-playing, songwriting teenage band member in me died.

Hurrying past Mikami at the front desk, I dropped the un-stacked stack of books off so I could run to the men's room. The second I threw the bathroom door open, I checked to see if anyone was in there. Thankfully I was alone. But not for long. My phone was out my pocket and it was dialing Beyond's number.

I sank against the wall as I waited for him to answer. He picked up after the third ring—I didn't give him a chance to say anything. "B, someone recognized me."


	8. 4:37 PM

**4 o'clock**

Hurrying past Mikami at the front desk, I dropped the un-stacked stack of books off so I could run to the men's room. The second I threw the bathroom door open, I checked to see if anyone was in there. Thankfully I was alone. But not for long. My phone was out my pocket and it was dialing Beyond's number.

I sank against the wall as I waited for him to answer. He picked up after the third ring-I didn't give him a chance to say anything. "B, someone recognized me."

Although more words tumbled out of my mouth, BB's softly muttered _shit _was audible. "I'm not freaked out," I told him. "Not a lot. I'm just a little shaken up." My eyes floated from different the focal points of the men's room in my increasing agitation—the ceiling tiles, the cramped window in the corner, the automatic paper towel dispensers. "Okay, maybe a little. Maybe I'm a little freaked out. But don't worry. I'm okay. I'm alone. I wasn't…stalked or anything. I think I handled it pretty well, so I'm proud of myself. I did good. I-I just wanted to tell you as soon as it happened." Most of what I was saying came out muffled since I started chewing my nails. "B, I'm _still_ being recognized. God, I thought this was over. I'm so tired, I'm—"

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down, dearest. Tell me what happened. Start over," B said. "You're freaking out. I need you to calm down. A, darling? I'm here—I'm right here. Tell me what happened. You're freaking yourself out." In the background, I could hear the loud mainstream music and incomprehensible shouting of unfamiliar voices. Damn. I forgot he was at work.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just can't believe this is still happening to me. This girl, there was this girl and sh-she was at the library and she came up to me while I was returning the books to their shelves. She came up to me and she just started talking to me like she knew me. It was like she knew _who I was_ the second she saw me. She had all these pre-meditated notions about my songs and what they meant. I mean, this girl wasn't any harm. Not really. But it's just—" I took a deep breath. "I guess I thought the library was safe—but it's like I can't go anywhere and not be _Adam_, you know?"

"You _are_ safe, A." The music on the other end sounded more and more far off as B left the bar to hear me better. "Tell me where you are now. I'll come and get you and—"

"No. I want that, but no. You're at work."

"Doesn't matter. You're still at the library, aren't you?"

"Umm, yeah. About that. I'm hiding in the bathroom," I told him, chuckling out of shame for myself. "But, seriously, I'm fine—"

"Then I'm gonna call—"

"Matt? No. He's at work. I don't even think he gets off soon." I checked my wrist watch. "Oh no wait, he does—in a little bit. I can wait, that's fine. Then I'll call him to pick me up and take me to you. Okay?"

"I wish I was there …" He meant here with me now and he didn't. Beyond left it an incomplete thought, both of us still trying to grasp what had happened.

I switched my cell phone to my other ear. "B? Stay on the phone with me."

"Of course. Of course, my love."

I started on the other hand, chewing my nails to bits. "Do you think I'm weak? You know, for running. Do you think…?"

There was a pause. Static. Heart-wrenching as it echoed in the extended silence.

Then,

"Cry," Beyond instructed.

My voice broke. "What?"

"I want you to cry. Take a moment," he said gently. "You don't have to say anything. I'll be right here on the other end until you feel better. I'm not going anywhere. Take this moment, and let it all out."

I did as BB said, paused, and focused on inhaling and exhaling breath. I pushed all my panicky thoughts and feelings away with each breath I blew out. Instead I filled my lungs with clean, refreshing air. Unfolding my legs from under me, I stretched out a little as I felt somewhat more at ease. I inhaled one breath at a time, savoring the relief each brought me. My erratic heartbeat subsided gradually.

"I'm okay," I said resolutely. "I feel better. Just the sound of your voice makes me feel better. I'm okay."

I could hear the smile in his voice. "That's what I like to hear," B told me.

* * *

><p>Apparently BB knew me a little better than I knew myself. Picking myself up off of the bathroom floor, I put on my brave face to face what was outside the men's room door. I was going to go back out there and everything was going to be as if nothing had happened. I made up some excuse for Mikami, gathered up my books and finished stacking. Every now and then, I looked over my shoulder for the girl. She was no where to be seen. No one else took any notice of me—for that, I was infinitely grateful.<p>

I had called Matt after hanging up with Beyond, and I was currently sitting on the library's front stairs. I didn't think I was going to cry, but the moment I saw Matt's car pull up, a little sob clung to the back of my throat. The overwhelming emotions that had surfaced in the bathroom came back as suddenly as I had willed him away. I had overreacted, I knew that now, because Matt was coming to comfort me and I was once again loosing my grip. Shutting the car door behind him, Matt came to me with arms open.

Falling into his arms, I spoke into his collarbone. "I can't escape—No matter how hard I—"

"Oh, A." Matt said. "Shh, shh. What are you going to do with you?"

I laughed despite myself. "I'm not going anywhere." I pulled away to look at him. "I didn't mean…for this to happen. I shouldn't've lost my head."

Matt looked hurt when I said this. He ushered me into his car.

"So," Matt said once he settled into his seat and turned the key in the ignition. "You didn't really give details on the phone. Someone at the library knew who you are?" He caught himself, "Sorry, were."

"It's okay," I deflected his apology. "And yeah, I guess. I played dumb but she could see right through it. I think she's harmless, but that fact that this is still happening even after four years…it still amazes me to say at the least."

"Plus it's fucking creepy."

My grimace sort of resembled a smile. "Yeah."

"You did the right thing. Seriously, you handled it well."

"Yeah."

We endured a couple minutes of silence. As we passed the city, I peered out onto the street. With my hood up and, switching my glasses to the too-big-for-my-face sunglasses, I was going incognito. The people were faceless at the speed we were going anyway, but I kept wondering: how many of them knew who I really was? Could I pick those who knew out of a crowd? Would they take one look at me, even in disguise, and link my back to Adamant Afterthought? Could it all be so simple and meaningless?

There was a time when my face was plastered on posters in train stations, bus stops, malls, music stores—there was a time when my band had songs in the soundtracks of movies and sold products in commercials—there was a time when our songs, _my words, _could be heard in public and at home—there was a time when everyone knew my face. How could I be so naïve to think that I could abandon that part of my life completely? Sure, I died my hair black-and-white, had ink scratched into my skin, dressed in sweaters and vintage t-shirts, and wore funky thick-rimmed glasses. But that won't take away who I was for years of my life.

Lost in self-realizing thoughts, I wasn't aware that Matt had turned on the radio. Not until it was too late. Stuck in mutual silence, neither of us realized that _our_ song, _my_ words scratched their way out the speakers at that exact moment. Something in me sunk into dark depths, leaving me painfully breathless. All my thoughts connected like converging rivers, and I gasped—it was _my_ _band_'s song "Remember You, Remember Me" on the radio. A low, tired groan escaped from my mouth. "Not now," I said. The stab to my heart devastated me. Of all the songs that could be playing, they just had to pick this one? Seriously?

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, A." Matt's features pinched with concern. He watched me claw blindly at the power switch until the radio shut off. "I should've let you pick the station. _Shit._ I'm sorry."

I regained myself quicker than I thought. "It's not your fault. How did we know that song was going to play on this station? We have no control over when or where we're going to hear anything from Adamant Afterthought." My voice came out more forgiving of fate than I intended.

Matt nodded solemnly, keeping his eyes on the road. "Next time I'm bringing my iPod so we don't have to listen to the stupid radio anymore anyway."

"Why is so hard for me to let it go?" I asked quietly, feeling far away. I was reeling, the storm current of my emotions hitting me fast and hard. I knew my question was impossible to answer, yet I found myself searching for a solution regardless. I don't know what I expected from Matt. But I always went to him for advice. Frank and understanding, he cleared up my confusions, let me talk it out even when it took hours, and supported my decisions without judgment in the end.

So this is why my question concerned Matt. "A, are you sure you want to get into this now?"

"It's fine. I'm fine," I assured him. "I can handle it, better than before." I became more empathetic to Matt's concern when I thought back to how I slipped up in front of Mello. "Sorry about the grocery store thing. I didn't mean to loose my cool with, you know, Mello being there."

He knew what happened at the grocery store wasn't the worst of me—Matt's seen me meltdown before. "You know Beyond is and always will be there for you no matter what." He paused. "Me, too. I'm here for you too."

"I know." I sighed. "I know that I get like this from time to time. I wish I could stop. I want _so bad_ to let it all go and move on. Matt, I left the band _four _years ago. All this time has passed, and I'm _still _hung up on Eric. Not as much as before, but…It's like he still has this _power _over me. I can't escape him and I think that's exactly what he wanted when he—"

"Hey, cut yourself a break." Matt cut in, putting an end to my tirade. "You and Eric were best friends for eighteen years. You grew up together. During all that time, you were under Eric's influence, his power. He dominated you. It's going to take more than four years to undo the damage he's done."

"What if part of me is still hanging on to him? A part that's bigger than he deserves."

"I hate to tell you this, but I don't think he's ever going to go away completely."

I sunk into my seat. Matt was confirming what I already feared.

Matt looked away from the road for a moment. "Do you ever think you could face him again?"

"I don't know what I'd do." I looked away. "Or what I'd say."

Matt touched my arm. "Hey…"

"I think about it a lot more than I should," I admitted. "What would happen if I really ran into his again, I mean." I cleared my throat. "I think the part that's got me hung up the most is that I never got any closure. I walked away from everything without a word. That's the worst part. I didn't say goodbye or get the chance to explain to anyone why I was gone. I mean, I know after I left our agents got us in the same room a couple times to talk about the band's break-up. But I never got any last moments with Eric that were personal or anything, in the end. I don't know if that makes me a coward…"

"It doesn't," Matt said. "You're non-confrontational by nature. If you had put up a fight Eric would've found a way to twist your words and make you take it all back."

"That's because he has that power over me," I reaffirmed Matt's point. He was right. "Whether I like it or not, it's always going to be there. Until a confrontation, I guess. But even that might break me even more… and I couldn't ever dream of rebounding from that again."

"But you're different now. That state that B and I first met you in…You're not the same person. Back when you were Eric's best friend, you hid behind his obnoxious, selfish, dominate personality. You didn't feel the need to make your own choices or be your own person. It was easier to go along with whatever he said or did. When you started realizing that you were losing yourself at his expense and that your relationship was toxic, you had to break away. But you had such a…dependency on him. I can only imagine how being on your own, having to live in an apartment and look for a job must've been difficult. But you did it. You realized that you were better than what Eric and everyone else tried to reduce you to.

"You've always been strong. I even saw it back then. It was hard at first, and you really hid out in your apartment a lot. But when you started hanging out with B and, therefore, me…there was no mistaking it. Every day since then I've seen how much you've grown apart from that person that you used to be. You've grown up. A, you left the band a hurt and confused child. I look at you now and you're every bit of the man I always knew you could be. The man that B knew you that was inside of you. He believed in that from the first moment he met you at the mailbox. And Eric will _never _touch the surface of that…pure, dorky awesomeness."

Matt gave my arm a little squeeze. "If nothing else, believe in that."

We pulled up to the bar where B worked. I turned to Matt. The words of gratitude were caught in my throat. Matt knew this. "Go on," he told me. "Go get your guy."

My eyes were clouded with unshed tears. "I-"

"I know." It was Matt's turn to ruffle my hair. "Now get out of my car."

I did as I was told, even if son was taking an authoritative position over his mother.

* * *

><p>I stepped into the bar, seeing the crowds of people but only really having eyes for one. The dim lights and shadowy smoke in the air clouded my vision. First I checked if he was tending the bar. He wasn't there. What was Beyond wearing today? I pulled apart my brain as I scanned the floor. The bodies moving in sloppy, awkward angles obstructed my view as the thick smell of nicotine made my stomach sticky with nausea. Think, A, think! My fingers massaged my temples. Oh yeah! At breakfast, as he steeped the tea for my teasoda he conversationally asked me if my red scarf was too much for his waistcoat. I said yes because waistcoats must be enjoyed singularly in all of their infinite glory! Okay, waistcoat waistcoat waistcoat.<p>

What if he wasn't here? What if he couldn't wait for Matt to bring me over? What if he really hightailed it to the library and I had missed him by leaving as soon as possible? The chaotic thoughts bounced around my head as my anxiety worsened. I decided that, where he was, sitting at the bar was best place for me to wait.

I made a movie towards the bar.

And there he was. He sprung up from picking up a beer cap off the floor.

The moment I saw Beyond, I didn't waste a second. I knew if he wasn't working he would've waited outside to save the seconds apart. Hell, if he wasn't working he _would've _gotten a speeding ticket on the way to the library—a scary thought indeed. We locked eyes from across the room. Clearly written in his expression was a reaction to the anguished uncertainty he saw on my face. Just like I saw the resolution and comfort on his. Even across the room, I could feel it in my fingertips, I was here, I was safe, just holding his gaze.

I ran behind the bar, nearly knocking half-empty glasses over in my wake. BB rushed to meet me. I slammed into him, the musky scent of his Old Spice hit me, and I threw my arms around his neck. His arms circled around me, holding my softly and securely. I buried my face in the side of his neck. Closing my eyes, I breathed him in.

What I really needed at the moment was to be held.

**Dear Eric, **

**You make me hate me, so how come I can't seem to let you go?**

**Your friend,**

**A**

_Would you like send this message?_ _Yes/__**No**_

_Are you sure? **Yes**/No_

_Message discarded. _


	9. Dusk

**Author's Note: **Hey, loved ones. :3 Please accept my sincerest apologies for not updating in not only forever, but 5ever! (Bad hipster reference, ew what what what am I doing?*) I know, I've been really naughty about taking my sweet time to write this chapter. But instead of babbling on about how my life has been crazy and beautiful, I thought I keep this as minimal as possible so you can read the chapter you've been waiting for. Just know that I'm thinking of you always, and appreciate every single reader and reviewer that has honored me with their presence! Thank you so much!

doneiloveyouadieu,

Meohy

*Anyone get the "Sassy Gay Friend: Romeo and Juliet" reference? ;D

* * *

><p><strong>Dusk <strong>

Matt—

As street signs and sirens passed by in a stream of multicolored blurs, I thought hard about my broken relationships. Seeing A almost inconsolable over a girl that recognized him made me wonder if I would ever get to that point. I mean, I wasn't a once-famous musician like A, but I did run away from home when I was eighteen. Over the years my parents stopped trying to contact me, not that they would want to. They never really bothered to spend time with me when I was living with them. Work always took precedence over me. Thankfully I realized this pretty early on, so I could begin my rebellious stage as soon as possible.

It didn't really come a surprise that they made excuses in order to stay at work later once they found out that I'd started smoking and bringing guys home. It didn't really come to a surprise when I ran away, taking my dad's vintage motorcycle in the process (I later sold it to pay for my car). It was a surprise, however, when they left messages on my cellphone urging me to come home for the holidays. This lasted for the first few years of my absence. Mostly they needed their only son to pose in their Christmas pictures. Ever since I left, my Christmas tradition has become going down to a 24-hour dinner with Beyond at 12:00 o'clock on Christmas Eve. We eat pancakes with red and green sprinkles, then we go back our apartment - or ever since he moved in with A, just my apartment - to watch Christmas-themed horror films. And after that, since I'm a sappy bastard, we watch _It's a Wonderful Life_. It's now A's responsibility to distract B when, every year, he makes fun of me for still getting _only a little!_ teary-eyed at the end.

I don't mind-B is absolutely my best friend. With he and A in my life, the void that my parent's neglect left in me has been forgotten. Even if I saw them today, it would be a bitter reunion only if they tried to lecture me about my life choices after a childhood of no attention or authority. They barely know me besides the son they dressed up and took to corporate dinners. They didn't know that underneath the rich kid facade, I was sneaking out at night to go to parties, get drunk, and go home with anyone who offered. They didn't know that I only did that because I didn't want to be alone in an empty house, that the hollowness of halls reminded me of how they'd rather secure their fortune than raise me. And secretly, when I was out I wondered what my parents would do if I didn't climb through my bedroom window at dawn to be there for breakfast. They didn't know that I hacked the security system for years so the cameras wouldn't catch me scaling the roof at night. They didn't know that my first kiss was with a preppy boy at party. To him, it was a harmless dare. But for me, brushing my lips the next morning, I remembered how my heart raced through the hot blood in my veins when he kissed me back with tongue. I cried for days, feeling disgusted, because my parents would hate me if they knew.

But when I finally accepted my sexuality, I would stay over at boy's houses or sneak them into my room through the side entrance of the house that no one used. They didn't know I'd gotten a tattoo when I thought I was in love with my first real boyfriend. They didn't know that I had dated the son of my father's business partner in secrecy when I was sixteen. He was in his twenties. And when he let me stay over I'd wake up beside him in his bed and find him smoking a cigarette. One day he asked me if I wanted a drag. And I said, "Okay, sure."

They didn't know that everything I did was a cry for attention.

But I don't miss the life I led then. My relationship with my parents would have to be a relationship that would remain broken. Although I had unresolved feelings with them, I had no intention of mending the void in me. With A and B in my life, I had no need to.

While I was musing about my messed up childhood, I swerved through the city streets that had become my home. It wasn't much of a fall from grace when I left my parent's luxurious life. I came to Los Angeles eager for new surroundings, new faces, and ultimately a new identity. I got my apartment pretty cheap, splitting the rent with my roommate. I didn't stop my drinking or smoking. When a string of meaningless relationships ensued, Beyond became the only consistent person in my life. He was there in the morning to sober me up before work, to pick me up when I didn't know where I was, to tell me to get my act together. He guided me through those dark days with a flashlight and a bottle of aspirin. With his brotherly concern, he brought me the eye-opening reality checks that I had never known.

When he did something simple like throw a blanket on me when I fell asleep watching _Dexter_ with him or toss a load my clothes into the wash when I'd forgotten, I was hit with the realization that _that's_ what I was missing. I had never had someone to take care of me. He didn't think twice about doing those things, but he was giving me what I always sought from my parents. That's what I tried to chase away when I drank myself stupid, those missing pieces of my childhood. It was then when I decided to get my act together. I never worked harder in my life than to right the wrongness of my behavior.

I wasn't thinking about any romantic commitments, not until Cole came around. He was my first steady boyfriend since the business partner's son. Although I mostly remember the things about Cole that turned our relationship sour, I do miss all the better parts of him. As much as I don't want to still care about him, I find myself thinking about him more than I should. Missing him, mostly. Missing the days when we'd watch obscure, artsy films and comment on how all anyone ever did was stare out of windows. Missing the days we'd go on dates in bowling alleys and arcades, trying to max out all the scores set by dweeby teenagers. Missing the days he'd disappear into my kitchen and bring me back hot pockets and chow mein and pretend like he'd toiled over him. Missing when we'd carpool to work and crack up the music so loud our ears bleed with guitar riffs and great lyrics.

Spinning the steering wheel, I pulled into the drab parking lot encased by balconies. Between the painted lines on the pavement my foot eased up on the break, the tires cracking across the asphalt as they rolled to a stop. I shut off the car's radio, ending some new song from Atlas Genius. The lyrics trailed on through my mind as lazily as they were when sung. I glanced down at ashtray, then my eyes wandered to my coat as I tried to recall where I'd placed my lighter. Finding it in my back pocket, I lit a cigarette and exhaled grey smoke that was twisted and trapped in the glass window before me.

I thought about how weird it was that Cole was there to sabotage my time with Mello. From when I punched him in the club to the fight he and Mello got in at The Paper Crane. Maybe he was jealous that I'd moved on. He obviously has some unresolved issues with me. Instead of harassing me in public, I wished he'd try to talk to me or something. Cole was out of my life, I had made that clear when I broke up with him. And yet he thought he could still get to me or even get me.

Sucking in smoke, I sat back in my car and stared straight ahead. A was haunted by phantoms from the past, but B gave him a reason to fight for a future together. Maybe for me that person was Mello. That was an awful lot of pressure to put on a guy that I had just met, but he was different. It was more of a feeling than knowing, but I was confident in Mello.

I needed some peace of mind. It would do me good to erase Cole completely from my system, especially after A's episode earlier. My hand was enveloped by the denim of my pocket as I retrieved my cellphone. The dialtone resounded in my eardrum, and my fingers flew to the number I knew by heart. With nervous fingers, I pressed it to my ear.

* * *

><p>Within the hour, Mello was knocking at my door. His voice flitted in from the hallway, "Your take out is here! A very sweaty and sexy delivery boy is waiting for you to open the door. So make the tip as generous as you deem fit for his efforts."<p>

"Hold on! Not dressed yet!" I called, trying to lace up my lime green converses while simultaneously not trip over my discarded Wiimotes. Gots to look good to impress my man!

"Oh, I don't mind!" Mello called, "Come on, while this is still warm."

Well, when you put it that way...I may have to look indecent or order to preserve the freshness of my dinner so I can enjoy it in its full deliciousness...

"Well, alright then." I answered the door nonchalantly, a striped shirt slung over my shoulder. "Hey, Mello."

My shirtlessness was well-received by Mello, whose eyes trailed down to the loose-fitting jeans and peek of bright orange Hollister boxers that he got. I did have my goggles on, even if my hair was matted and I had only managed to get one shoe on. Winner of half-naked door-answering: me.

"You know, this has always been a little fantasy of mine," Mello said.

An eyebrow arched incredulously, I asked, "To star in badly-written and costumed porn?"

"Not all porn is written badly," Mello sniffed defensively. "And how long do you expect the costumes to stay on?"

I chuckled. "Come in and keep your pants on." I backed up to let him in, making a sweeping gesture to the interior of my apartment.

"Aw, do I have to?" Mello mock-whined, biting his lip.

"Technically you don't _have_ to do either." I said smugly.

"Well, I'll come in _and _keep my pants on, but only for the sake of keeping this date traditional." Mello entered, carrying the take-out to my kitchen. "And to show you that I have standards."

I kicked off my one shoe, and followed him through the threshold. "Hmm, trying to me impress me I see?" As I entered, I threw my shirt on over my head. "But...if we're following the traditional scheme of a date, after we eat...well, that's when clothing becomes optional."

"Where are your forks and knives?" Mello asked, his question brimming with excitement, trying to speed things along.

"Hold on there, mister." I said, taking the brown paper bag in one arm and his waist in the other. "Now I know I'm looking pretty damn fine right now, and if I were you I wouldn't be able to resist my ass in these jeans either, BUT we're going to slow it down and have a nice time eating this Thai food."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you wanted to be treated like a lady," Mello teased.

"Damn straight." I planted a quick kiss on his lips. "I deserve some respect."

"Okay, since you admitted to be the woman in the relationship..."

"That's not going to stop people from questioning who's the pitcher and who's the catcher on the street."

"I guess we'll have to let them decide."

"Fuck what they say, right? It only matters between us."

"In that case, I need your 'I want to be treated like a lady' statement in writing."

"Aww, is someone insecure about their masculinity?" I teased.

"Eat your damn rice," Mello mock-growled. "And remember that I _am_ wielding chopsticks."

"Not when I can report it as domestic abuse."

"I'm pretty sure you're not actually a woman, Matt."

"Not anatomically, no."

"Thank God."

I joined in his laughter.

Later, when Mello and I were lying in my bed (not doing anything of the 'X-rated variety' as A would say, because that's where my radio with the cassette player is), listening to the cassettes Mello found under his bed earlier in the week and said he wanted to listen to again. And he couldn't do this at his own house, you see, because he kicked his radio in once while in a angered fit. (This was a different radio than the one I saw at Mello's apartment since the one that I saw didn't have a cassette player.)

Now that I over-explained the scenario that put Mello and I in the current time, I guess I'll make an awkward transition to a moment of importance that followed an hour of talking about nothing and allowing awesome music to fill our heads.

It was a little while after one of the tapes reached its end, and neither of us wanted to untangle ourselves from this position to change the tape to its other side. All comfy-like, I was wrapped up in his arms when I said, "I feel like I know little about you."

"What do you need to know that you don't already? Come on, I'll tell you nothing of importance if you want to listen for hours."

"See, that's it. Your answers are either not serious or equally dismissive."

"I'm serious about you. How's that?"

My heart fluttered, and my breathing halted.

This must've read as alarm for Mello because he stirred, moving to sit up. "What? Was it too soon to say? Because I mean it, but if you're not ready..."

"No, it was a perfect time. I was starting to feel like we were moving towards more of a friendship than an actual relationship, since we joke around so much..." I tried to clarify was I was trying to say, "Because relationships start in two ways: as a friendship that develops into a sort of romance, or a romance that plays out where the two people learn little things about the other. But we've done so much of both, the romance and the friendship all at once, I'm just caught up in it all."

"Isn't that a perfect balance?"

"It is. I just didn't see it that way...before now. I'm sorry, Mello, I feel as though this is really complicated and out of the blue. I...I'm just coming out a tough break-up, and after two years with him, I'm not really sure how to start things again." I shifted, a little uncomfortably. "Can I be honest with you?"

"You can always be honest, but never when I don't want to hear it."

I wanted to remind him that he was being cryptic again, but thought better of it. "I guess I was confused because...well, do you remember what you said before we got out of the car at The Paper Crane?"

"I was either a little drunk or really hung over, so I don't remember correctly, but go on."

"You told me that we weren't dating." It wasn't said as an accusation.

Mello paused, and sorted thought his thought-process at that moment. I took a moment to light a cigarette, mostly to calm my nerves. I didn't anticipate Mello's reaction as I let the words tumble out of from behind my teeth. I blew out smoke and it twisted up lazily to the ceiling in the space between us.

Finally, he resolved to be painfully honest with me. "I didn't expect this to happen. I went into The Paper Crane thinking that we had had fun together, not remembering much of it, but _feeling_ it. And I didn't want it to be bogged down with the complications and fallouts of a relationship. I wanted it to be fun and uncomplicated and free. I'm not really...good at relationships. So I thought if we didn't define it right away, then maybe it could last longer before I fucked it up. I just...had doubts, I guess." He saw the hardened look I gave him. "Not about you." Mello amended. "About me."

"That's funny, because I am...or was, too." I sighed. "I'm just always doubting..."

"Shh." Mello pressed a finger to my lips, "Then let me define...us." He cupped my chin with his hand. "I only said that back in the parking lot of The Paper Crane because I was scared of ruining something I knew was different, and better than anything I've ever had before. Honestly, I didn't expect to care this much."

"So you're saying that you do care...?" I stopped myself from saying 'a lot.' Because that, I knew, was taking it too fast.

"I do, Matt." Mello smiled in that teasing way that I loved. "Of course I care about you! I spent 20 bucks on dinner."

I laughed, the tension of the moment breaking. "It nice to know you spoil me."

"My presence is enough. But, yes, I know I overdid it. Guess you're special."

"You guess or you know?"

Something sentimental touched Mello's eyes. "I guess I know."

I whacked him in the chest, striking his collarbone. "Bastard!"

"Ouch!" Mello winced from the pain.

I narrowed my eyes at him in mock-annoyance, but lowered my lips to kiss his collarbone.

He smiled, and took a drag from my cigarette. "That's more like it," he said, brushing his fingers through the hair pooled at my ear.

I shifted so that I was further down the bed, lying my head next to his stomach. Really I was trying to get comfortable, but Mello took it as something sexual. (Not that I minded.) With his foot, he hiked the cuff of my jeans up so he could trace along the bone of my ankle. I let out a happy sigh.

"The pain, it's spreading all over..." he teased.

Neither of us cared how cheesy that sounded.

"Guess I don't know my own strength." I murmured. Propping myself up, elbows on either side of his hips, I lifted the edge of his T-shirt up, exposing the smooth skin beneath. Responding to his advances, I placed hot, wet butterfly kisses across his chest, adding a "Is this better...How 'bout this?" every once and awhile.

Mello responded with softly whispered 'yes'es.

Both of us were moving towards more sexy times (in which I was hoping to get more urgent 'yes'es, if you're gettin' what I'm puttin' down), when my phone buzzed in my back pocket, the technological bastard. I looked up at Mello in surprise. His icy eyes narrowed, but the evil smile spread across his lips betrayed his carelessness. He reached into my jeans to retrieve my phone, his hand lingering a moment more in my back pocket.

"Any excuse to grab my ass..." I muttered under my breath, smiling into the kiss I planted near his navel.

He chuckled softly, and opened the message. "It's from Beyond."

"Ignore it," I breathed into the skin of his stomach.

Dodging my request, Mello surfed the internet for a minute.

In protest, I tugged the side of his skinny jeans down and nipped at his hip.

He laughed and squirmed. "Hold on, hold on!"

"What is it?" I pleaded.

Mello met my exasperated gaze, and smirked."I texted him a picture of a 'Do Not Disturb' sign."

With that, he let my phone fall to the floor and rolled over so that he was on top of me. A devilish and handsome smile adorned his lips before he lowered them to mine and kissed me breathless.

* * *

><p>Sucking in smoke, I sat back in my car and stared straight ahead. A was haunted by phantoms from the past, but B gave him a reason to fight for a future together. Maybe for me that person was Mello. That was an awful lot of pressure to put on a guy that I had just met, but he was different. It was more of a feeling than knowing, but I was confident in Mello.<p>

I needed some peace of mind. It would do me good to erase Cole completely from my system, especially after A's episode earlier. My hand was enveloped by the denim of my pocket as I retrieved my cellphone. The dialtone resounded in my eardrum, and my fingers flew to the number I knew by heart. With nervous fingers, I pressed it to my ear.

The familiar voice on the other end gritted out a 'what the hell do you want,' I took a breath to steady myself, exhaling all my insecurities. "Cole, it's me. I have to see you again. And no, I don't want to fight this time."


	10. Evening

**Evening**

Matt—

"What the hell do you want?" the familiar voice on the other end gritted out.

I took a breath to steady myself, exhaling all my insecurities. "Cole, it's me. I have to see you again. And no, I don't want to fight this time."

There was static. It crackled and resounded in my ear. With every heartbeat I felt a lurch in my stomach and with every second I doubted the intelligence of this call. "Huh. What's brought this on?" Cole asked finally. "You finally realize your life is shit without me? Not meanin' any harm or anything, but I'm sure as hell not taking you back."

"No, Cole. I don't want that. I just wanna make this right." I pinched the bridge of my nose in irritation. "I just really think we need to talk...about what's happened, since...our break-up." My stomach was tied in knots and squeezing itself under the stress and pained anxiety I was putting it through.

"Well, this'll be good. Come on over," he said nonchalantly, though his words dripped with disdain. He paused-I put out my cigarette-then, he said, "Who would've thought that this would happen, me inviting you over again? Will you be here all night? Should I clean up...order take out?"

"Cole...don't." I rested my forehead on the steering wheel, feeling weak, needing its support to prop me up and keep me steady. The conversation hadn't begun, and I felt myself sinking to dark depths. I didn't want to go down this path. Not now. Not ever. My voice shook, and I wavered in my resolution. "Don't make this harder than it already is."

Cole chuckled, low and cruel. "Oh, count on it."

I didn't pick up my head from the wheel. It was almost if I didn't have the strength. "Cole..."

"Matt," he said. Firmly. "I hope you know what you're doing."

This was the only warning I would get from Cole, the only mercy he felt I deserved. I held onto it tightly. I knew he was planning to rip me apart, slowly and painfully, just like I did his heart. He would repay me with every comeuppance he could, just so he can see me bend and break. He's been planning to do this ever since I broke him and his heart.

How do I stand myself?

I put the key back in ignition. "Be there in 10."

"Let yourself in. You still have your key, don't you?"

I gritted my teeth. He was right. I didn't know what I was getting myself into.

* * *

><p>His door was unlocked, and I could smell the smoke from a few feet away.<p>

When I walked in, he was buttoning up his shirt. A boy, maybe a few years younger than me, squirmed out from under him. He rolled off Cole's couch, scooped the rest of his clothes off of the floor, and bumped shoulders with me on his way out, face flushed.

"_Wow_." I breathed.

Cole lifted his cigarette from the ashtray and let it droop from the corner of his mouth as he fastened his tie. "You got me hooked, you know," he said. He took it from his mouth, exhaling smoke. "I used to love the smell of it on your breath, your clothes, your apartment. It still reminds me of you, and I can't stand it."

"Am I supposed to apologize for that?" I asked, an edge to my voice. Damn. I promised myself to be the bigger person, not to lose my temper. Not when Cole can easily bend my words and shape them against me. After dating for two years, he knows how to push my buttons. All too well.

"Is that why you came here? To apologize?" He asked, getting up from the couch. Still holding onto his cigarette, I followed the airbound gestures he made with it so I could have an excuse to avoid his angry eyes. "See, Matt. I don't know what you think you could say to make this better."

"If nothing I can say will change how hostile you are towards me, then..." My glance shifted upwards to meet his. "Fight me. Mello stays out of all of this. This is all my fault. So take it up with me."

"I'd kill you."

"What kind of answer is that?" I asked, backing away from him. "Are you threatening me?"

Cole took a step closer. "Hardly."

"How is it everything you say comes out menacing towards me? Why does it feel like you're out to get me? Is this what you want, Cole? Why are you there every time I turn, every time I'm trying to have a good time? It's like you're hunting me. You're like a shadow I can't seem to shake, even in the daylight."

"It could be worse."

I snorted. "How so?"

"Did you ever stop to think about my side of the split? How tortured I feel, every waking hour? There's no escape from this pain. You're an addiction I can't quit, no matter how hard I try. It's driving me mad! I should hate you, but I don't!"

"So...you don't hate me?"

"I'm looking out for you."

"So I'm just being paranoid? All the following around you've been doing of me lately?"

"Paranoid? You should be."

"You're confusing me."

"Now you know what it was like to be in love with you."

"Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Then, what, do you still have feelings? Is that what this is about?" I demanded. "Are you jealous that I've moved on? Why were you at the club? The Paper Crane? What do you want? What do you want from me?"

"I want to quit you."

He let his words pollute the air.

"But at the same time, I want you to feel everything I did after you broke my heart. Every absence of feeling happiness, the disinterest with living, the ache in your soul to be loved when you are not. I want you to feel the sickness of heartbreak, the stress of being depressed. Tenfold, Matt, because you were especially cruel with me. You took me from my worse, my self-loathing depression, and gave me everything. All the love that I could've ever dreamed of. Then you took it all away. Every semblance of it. And what's worse, you left me with an attachment to you! I can't seem to quit you! So I have take it all back from you, or at least bring you down to my level. This suffering, it must be shared."

"No...no!" I said, voice shaking. "I won't let you do this to me. Not again!"

Cole took a step closer to me.

My back was against the door. "This is my life, not yours! We don't share a life together anymore, so what more do you think you're entitled to take? I gave up on you, so give up on me. Make it mutal, this break between us. I don't want you in my life, to ruin it or at all. Give me back my life! A life I can live without a constant reminder of what a mistake you were!"

His eyes flashed. "Not when you took everything away from me, no. Robbed me of all happiness. Reminded me that I can't be loved, even when you spent every moment with me trying to convince me that I could be. Look at me now. You promised with every caress, every playful joke, every loving glance, and every thought of me. Look at you now, you've broken your promise. You hold no love for me, not in any fiber of your being, and you've confirmed what I've always knew. After I tried so hard and long to be convinced otherwise. It was all for nothing. No, I can't do that."

I wanted to stop breathing, then and there. "You can't be helped."

He was so close, he sealed my position against the door, and our breaths mingled. "I wish you had told me that before you made me love you."

It felt like I was swallowing every word he was saying, choking on all the malice towards me.

"I can't stand to see you like this."

"Then why are you here? Why did you think this would accomplish? We're both more hurt than we ever intended to be."

"I had to make things final. I had to assure that things were over between us. Because I'm moving on. I know I am. And we're over. Things between us are finished."

"I can't promise that."

"Why not?"

"Not when I have feelings like this. I can't let them go. Now when they hold me so tight it's like I'm suffocating."

"Don't do that. Don't go there. Not now. You can't feel that way, not anymore."

"What, to still care about you? And care about who you date that you deem is better than me?"

"Cole, don't."

"You can't stop me."

"You're sick! I hate everything about you and what you've become."

"I know, baby." He said, his finger brushing my wet cheek. Trailing down to my jaw. "It hurts."

He was so close. "This isn't who I fell in love with," I said.

Too close. Every exhale of breath burned my cheeks. "And yet this part of me has always been just behind the surface." Cole lowered his voice. "You just haven't coaxed it out until now."

I looked away, clenching my jaw.

He grabbed my chin. "Don't turn away."

I held his gaze, though it terrified me. "I'll call the police."

"And have Mello personally arrest me? Oh wait, didn't he say he was a detective? Think about it, Matt, how is it that he _is_ the Feds and yet he still runs from them? He's even shadier than I am. Why did you run with him away from the police at the Paper Crane? I wonder what he's hiding. Maybe you should ask him."

I could feel the heat and anger stirring in my pulse. "Don't you dare bring him into this."

He backed off, letting me go. I finally took a breath that wasn't shared with his. I didn't feel so pinched and pressured. Cole held his hands up, "I'll let you fall on your own sword there."

"What aren't you telling me?" I demanded. Knowing that I wouldn't get any viable information out of him anyway.

"You'll just have to get closer to him to find out." Cole went back to his couch, picked up his pack of cigarettes from between the cushions. He pulled one out of the box, lit it, then met my gaze through the smoke. "Want one?" He asked, extending the pack to me.

"No, thanks." I murmured, as if I were in a daze. I felt the cold brass of the door knob, wrapped my fingers around it. The only thing running through my mind as I turned on my heel to leave was _get me out of here, get me out of here, get me out of here._

* * *

><p>"I'm familiar with that face." Beyond said, a shadow cast off by the nearby lamp light slicing his apprehensive expression in two. Tugging on one of the long pieces of his scarf with one arm, he beckoned to the empty edge of the park bench with the other. "You saw Cole, didn't you?"<p>

I nodded slowly. "Don't tell A."

"No promises, but I'll make sure he doesn't go at him with a fire poker. That's my job," he touched my shoulder when I lowered myself the seat beside him. "Are you okay?"

My face sunk to my hands. "No, on so many levels. Just...no."

Now it was BB's turn to nod slowly. He brought his hands together, and turned to me. "Do you believe anything he said to you?"

Not looking at him, I shrugged. "Hell if I know."

"Because you know we've been here before," BB clarified. "Too many times."

"Everything is so fucked up. He's burrowed his way back into my head. He's made me regret ever meeting him and trying to love him. And I still care. And that makes everything more ridiculous and painful." I raised my head to look at him pleadingly. "What do I do when everything I didn't want to keep happening is?"

BB took my hands in his, the mittens encasing the chilled skin of my fingers. He held onto mine tightly, but the look in his eyes conveyed the softness of undimmed affection. "I think...you should enjoy the relationship in your life that's beginning, not be burdened by the end of another. Especially if it proved to be toxic to you. You have something good with Mello. Relish every minute of it, Matt."

He called me Matt. And Mello Mello.

Reading my expression of bewilderment, B narrowed his eyes, "I know, I had to get through to you somehow. Don't get used to it, my boy."

"I just want to forget about what's happened since dusk," I told Beyond. "I know now that it was mistake."

"Then start anew." He squeezed my hands, then rose. "Come on. Let's get you inside." He took off his right-hand mitten, gave it to me, and took my left hand in his right. He held onto it casually, and I knew from the simple gesture that he was saying that he was always going to be here with me through whatever came our way.

"Thank you, Beyond." I said, letting him lead me away from the park bench and back to our apartment building. "Sometimes I don't know what I would do without you. And I don't think I've ever really thanked you."

He shrugged. "There's no need to, really."

"But..."

"No." He held up his one mittened hand. "Don't get sentimental on me. Leave that heart-to-heart stuff for my boyfriend," he said. "He's better at it. It doesn't suit me, and he actually likes it."

"Beyond..."

"I know, I know. Say no more. I'm so wicked."

"More like brilliant."

He threw his arm around my shoulders. "Come on, I already know you adore me."

And together, we walked into the quiet solace of the night.


End file.
